


Whumptober 2020

by Rejectedmarvel



Series: Whumptober [3]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Avengers Family, Comfort, Domestic Avengers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Hurt, Hurt Peter Parker, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, Irondad, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Tony Stark, SHIELD, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Whumptober, Whumptober 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-01
Updated: 2020-10-30
Packaged: 2021-03-07 17:29:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 18
Words: 21,736
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26741398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rejectedmarvel/pseuds/Rejectedmarvel
Summary: Another wonderful month of whump is upon us :D Prompts once again are from the lovely @ Whumptober2020 and are focused around Irondad!~ Not a ship!! A father-son relationship only!~ Each chapter will have its own warnings!However, things are alittledifferent this year. Due to the hectic state the world is in and my own schedule there won't necessarily be 31 days of fics. On some days I'm combining prompts (since this year has three prompts for each as well there's more than 31 overall).Happy spooky season!!
Relationships: Ben Parker & May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, Bruce Banner & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & May Parker & Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Morgan Stark (MCU) & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Pepper Potts & James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Happy Hogan & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & James "Rhodey" Rhodes & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Natasha Romanov & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark, Tony Stark & Avengers Team
Series: Whumptober [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1500761
Comments: 100
Kudos: 244
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	1. Let's Hang Out Sometime

**Author's Note:**

> **Chapter Summary:**
> 
> The clock strikes twelve as another video appears, its brief and grainy; strangled voices echoing from within his lab. Tony only stares numbly at the flashing images, refusing to blink, refusing to miss any new detail. A body hangs from the center, deep crimson stains splattered across the person’s torso. 
> 
> It was the fourth video this hour, a taunting stream displayed for him to watch — for him to figure out who this person was. Some odd sick game Hammer decided to play. 
> 
> The image focuses and all the air escapes his lungs.
> 
> Peter, his body — his body was the one hanging, not moving.
> 
> **Prompts:** Waking up Restrained | Shackled | Hanging
> 
> **Warnings:** mentions of blood, torture, and weapons

The clock strikes twelve as another video appears, its brief and grainy; strangled voices echoing from within his lab. Tony only stares numbly at the flashing images, refusing to blink, refusing to miss any new detail. A body hangs from the center, deep crimson stains splattered across the person’s torso. 

It was the fourth video this hour, a taunting stream displayed for him to watch — for him to figure out  _ who _ this person was. Some odd sick game Hammer decided to play. 

The image focuses and all the air escapes his lungs.

Peter, his body — his body was the one hanging, not moving.

Electrical gears click into place, a clunky Iron Man rip-offs expanding some sort of sphere from their arms. The point becomes illuminated, a white light blinking the camera for a few seconds. Hammer finally walks into view, fingers firmly resting on some sort of device. 

“You know I always wanted to know how fast your suit was,” Justin smirks pressing a button on his device. The floor opens beneath Peter, the sky surrounding him. He notices the lack of the kid’s presence, gesturing for his goons. “Wake up Petey for me.”

The moment the spheres touch the kid’s skin, a guttural scream erupted from him. A chill ran down Tony’s spine as he watched in horror, screaming at the live feed hoping that Justin would hear him. Pete’s body only convulses some more, fresh blood staining his clothes from where the spheres went in. It’s another painstaking few moments of listening to the kid scream until the bots stop the torture. 

Panic grips Tony’s lungs as he taps away on his tablet, Friday already trying to pinpoint a location as his suit forms around him. 

“FRI please tell me you have a location,” He huffs pacing around the room hoping for a direction. 

“Nothing yet, Sir. Running more diagnostics as we speak.”

“Well hurry up,” He watches in more horror as Peter’s body sways over the open hatch, limp and unprotected form only held up by two chains. 

His kid’s wrists become bloody as he notices the open vast space below him. Panic edges on his own face, pained cries escaping him as he tries to swing his body to solid ground. Hammer only watches with more amusement, cheering the boy one as he fails to swing. 

“I hope you have your suit ready, Anthony,” Justin smirks, turning his attention back to the camera. “Because Petey is about to go on one hell of a ride.”

Hammer presses a button, some mechanism clicking into place off-screen. Peter only panics some more, pained eyes wide and full of terror.

“Wait!“ The kid tries to reason. 

“Tick Tok, Tick Tok,” Hammer sings as he releases another button.

The chains break and the kid screams into the vast open space below him. Tony takes off without Friday confirming a location, repulsors blasting him through his glass skyline as Justin finally sends in the coordinates.

“FRI put everything into the thrusters!” He yells flying over the city like a mad man. He curves upward, heading towards some floating Helicarrier the coordinates were leading him towards. “I need to find any falling humans,  _ NOW!”  _

The anxiety in his lungs crept around him like a snake, his heart nearly erupting from his chest. He feels his body pressure rise, eyes just catching three bots descending on him. 

“Boss, three hostile threats incoming.”

“I see that!” He yells frantically looking about. “Deploy missiles and find Peter!” 

Explosions happen above, mechanical parts falling to the city below as smoke clouds his vision.

“FRIDAY-“

“Mr. Parker thirty feet below and counting.” 

The HUD finally locks onto Peter below him, frantic form free falling trying to figure out how to break his fall. His heartbeat quickens, panic reaching its height.

“Thrusters now!” 

The suit takes a sharp downward descent, crackling jets roaring behind him as he inches up on his kid. It’s seconds later when he can hear the terrified screams of Peter, blood trailing behind as he looks into his impending doom. 

“Faster FRI!”

He increases his speed again, suit dangerously low of running out of thruster power. He prays to whatever higher being is out there, fingertips just mere centimeters away from Peter’s. The kid finally sees him, hand outreached as he continues to fall. 

“FRIDAY!”

His suit heats up, danger signs appearing all over his HUD.

_ Just a few more seconds- _

_ He almost had him all he needed- _

His fingers clutch Peter’s wrist, the force pulling him down until he offsets the weight. He tugs upward, arms clutching around the kid as they stop midair holding onto each other for dear life.

“T-Tony,” Peter clings onto the man, body trembling.

“I got you,” He hushes. “I got you, Pete, you're ok.” 

Trying to calm the kid down, his eyes linger to the Helicarrier blood boiling. The mere thought of Hammer angers him, mind wanting to beat the smirk right off the man’s face. 

“Boss, may I suggest getting Peter some medical attention? I am detecting some injuries that need attention.”

Tony snaps back to Peter still trembling in his arms. Quietly he takes his free hand combing through his matted curls. 

“FRI can you contact-“

“Colonel Rhodes has been contacted, he is currently on his way to arrest Hammer.”

“Thank you,” He mutters, still running his fingers through Peter’s hair. “Alright baby, let's get you fixed up and back on the ground.”


	2. In the Hands of the Enemy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There’s a sudden dread that washes over Peter the moment he opens his eyes. 
> 
> He blinks, squeezing his eyes shut for another few seconds praying for the horror in front of him to go away. His eyes open once more, the same sight as before looming in front of him. Bile rises in his throat, panicked tears pricking at his eyes. A surprised gasp escapes him as he tries to surge forward, heavy chain collar keeping him in place. 
> 
> “This can’t be…” Peter trails off, eyes squeezed shut once more refusing to look ahead of him. He drops his head; senses dull and buzzing as his brain screams danger. “It’s not real, not real.” 
> 
> A gloved leather hand cups his face gently, cold fabric tilting his head upward. His eyes remained stuck, another shaking breath escaping as other gloved hand tugs at his hair. 
> 
> “Oh, Peter,” The familiar man’s chilling voice whispers in his ear. The man taps his eyes, almost forcing them open. “This is most certainly real.” 
> 
> With another painful tug to his hair, Peter’s eyes finally open. His brown fearful eyes stare upward into blue menacing ones. His gaze lingers, taking in the very image of what should be a dead man in front of him. 
> 
> _It was Beck._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of blood, guns, and torture 
> 
> Prompts: “Pick who dies” | Collars | Kidnapped

There’s a sudden dread that washes over Peter the moment he opens his eyes. 

He blinks, squeezing his eyes shut for another few seconds praying for the horror in front of him to go away. His eyes open once more, the same sight as before looming in front of him. Bile rises in his throat, panicked tears pricking at his eyes. A surprised gasp escapes him as he tries to surge forward, heavy chain collar keeping him in place. 

“This can’t be…” Peter trails off, eyes squeezed shut once more refusing to look ahead of him. He drops his head; senses dull and buzzing as his brain screams danger. “It’s not real, _not real.”_

A gloved leather hand cups his face gently, cold fabric tilting his head upward. His eyes remained stuck, another shaky breath escaping as other gloved hand tugs at his hair. 

“Oh, Peter,” The familiar man’s chilling voice whispers in his ear. The man taps his eyes, almost forcing them open. “This is most certainly real.” 

With another painful tug to his hair, Peter’s eyes finally open. His brown fearful eyes stare upward into blue menacing ones. His gaze lingers, taking in the very image of what should be a dead man in front of him. 

_ It was Beck.  _

Alive, breathing, and smiling wickedly. 

“How-” Was the only word he could muster as Beck guided his head back to horrors in front of him. 

“That would spoil all fun,” Quentin chuckles, hands finally treating from his face. 

He gestures ahead of himself, over to the two bodies chained against a wall. Their faces were hidden by a cloth hood. Peter’s breathing picks up once more, fully knowing the identifies without having to see their faces. 

_ MJ. _

_ Ned.  _

_ Chained like animals to a wall.  _

The moment he awoke in this musty room, his eyes found the simmer of the broken glass of the Black Dilaha necklace. The jagged shards glistened, Michelle’s unmoving form curled into a corner as puffs of air filled the cloth hood. Beside her Ned still sported his favorite Stars Wars tee, limp form all but matching his girlfriend’s. 

_ They weren’t supposed to be here, they weren’t supposed to-  _

His mind lingers back to his friends dragging him out for dinner, begging him to take a night off from patrol. They wanted him to relax, to leave his suit —  _ their protection at home.  _ And he listened, his guard dropped until-

His mind grows fuzzy after that, memories not fully clicking together. Peter brows furrow as his heart quickens, Beck still amused by his panicked reactions. All he recalls is walking out of the diner and suddenly everything else comes up blank. 

“Don’t be so gloomy, Petey,” Quentin pats his shoulder finally making his way towards his unconscious friends. “The party has just started.” 

“Don’t you dare-” He yells surging forward only to be yanked by the thin chains around him. His collar buzzes with life, a quick jolt slumping his body to the dirty floor. He grits his teeth in response, panic weaving around his lungs like a snake. “Get away from them.”

“Last time I check this was a free country,” The man smirks, pulling off the hoods to reveal bruised and bloody faces. 

Peter’s world stops right there, his limbs already fighting against his restraints as the shocks continue. He screams out in pain as the voltage increases, still fighting to break free. Beck only returns his attention to MJ, gently brushing her matted curls out of cut above her brow. She doesn’t make any indication of movement, limp form like putty in the man’s hands. 

“Pretty girl isn’t she?”

“Get the  _ fuck _ off of her!” He shouts, tugging against his chains once more. 

“Now those are some big boy words huh?” Beck laughs using his hands to make his friends' unconscious forms nod. 

_ “I said—!” _

Another shock ripples through his body limbs tensing as his body spasms on the floor. Peter’s vision goes white for a moment, jerking form jolting every second as the shock speed increases. It was only when he stopped fighting against the chains that the pain stopped. The hot metal cooled around his neck, crackling device shutting off for now. 

“What-” He grits out through the pain. “What do you want?”

He had to play this sick and twisted game Beck had planned, he had to get the attention back over him and away from his friends. They couldn’t protect himself as he could, he could take the beating or whatever torture the man had in store. 

Beck finally stands, an even wider grin stretching across his face. With a clap of his hands, a small slot in the door opens as a box slides in underneath. Quentin stops the object with his foot, bending down to reveal what was inside. 

The man pulls out a small revolver and one bullet, spinning the empty cylinder a few times. Peter’s heart only quickens by his actions watching carefully as he loads the single bullet into one of the chambers. Beck, gun in hand cocks the weapon, the barrel just touching his forehead as he pulls the trigger. 

Peter flinches at the cold metal against his, wide eyes almost expecting a bullet to hit him. A puff of air hits his skin, the man laughing at the small horror washing over the kid’s face. He kneels, getting up and personal.

“Let’s play a little game of life and death,” Quentin whispers. Carefully he cocks the weapon again, handing it over to Peter with a smirk. “Careful now, the bullet is in that one.”

He only holds the gun with more confusion, brows furrowing. Any other person would have used this to their advantage; firing the damn thing at their kidnapper. But that would entail killing someone, taking a life. 

_ That was something he could never do.  _

“Don’t look so confused Petey, it’s quite simple.” Beck begins slowing molding Peter’s hands around the weapon. “Two friends, one bullet.”

The color leaves Peter’s face, a numbness creeping throughout. The air escapes his lungs, eyes blown wide as he struggles to free himself of the weapon. 

“You get to pick who lives, who dies.”

_ He’s picking- _

_ Oh, God. _

“No,” He heaves out body starting to tremble, he jerks the weapon towards Beck a fury growing. “I’m not-”

Quentin grabs the barrel like it was nothing, his lips drawn in a thin line. “Shoot me and both of your friends die.” He warns eyes narrowed. 

The man then leads the gun towards his friends, a firm grip keeping Peter’s trembling hands in place. He tries to fight against it, only earning painful reminders of a sudden jolt in the back of his neck. He loses ten years off his life when he almost fires at Ned, screaming in terror as Beck laughs. 

“I-I’m not-” He struggles to find the words painfully staring at his unconscious friends. “I can’t.”

“You either shoot someone or I’m killing both of them,” Quentin whispers to him, urging him to fire. “You can’t get out of this one Peter, I promised I would break you and I’m fulfilling it.”

“I-” Tears prick his eyes as his hands shake. “I don’t-”

“20 seconds.”

“What?!”

“19, 18-”

“Beck wait!”   


“17, 16…”

Tears freely fall as Beck counts down, an ugly sob bubbling up as he tries to make a choice. His palms grow sweaty, trembling figure trying to think. His eyes go to Ned first, memories of middle school flashing by like a movie. The lego sets they built, the movies they saw, his best friend helping him navigate the world as a superhero. His friend had a bright future he couldn’t just-

His eyes find Michelle, his beautiful girlfriend. It was cheesy but honestly, the love of his life who was just laying there with bruises and blood covering her face. His memories with her flash by; their dates, the love they shared all threatened by an evil man. 

_ He can’t. _

_ He can’t kill- _

“5, 4-”

It hits him as tears fall, mind already expecting the inevitable. 

“3, 2-”

_ “Me!”  _ He shouts catching Beck off guard. 

The man’s grip loosens, a curious stare looking him over. “I’m sorry what-”

“I choose me,” He says probably turning the gun on himself. “You want someone to die well its going to be me.”

Beck puts his hands up in surrender, a proud smirk forming. “And here I thought you wouldn’t have the guts.” 

Peter stares at the barrel of his gun then at his friends, tears still freely flowing. He prays that they won’t blame themselves, that they’ll make it out of here safely. He had to give them some chance after all. 

“Well get on with it, I don’t have all day.”

He nods pressing the barrel to his skin, he squeezes his eyes shut trying to put his mind somewhere peaceful. He thinks of his friends and family, heart growing heavy as his finger taps the trigger. He pauses for a moment trying to go out with his head held high. 

With one last breath, his finger moves to-

_ “PETER NO—!" _

A large weight tackles him from the side, the gun just falling out of his hands. He hits the pavement with a force, the weight of the chains and collars suddenly gone. Beck yells behind him, disgruntled curses echoing. His eyes remain shut, heart beating loudly. 

“Jesus,” A familiar comforting voice heaves. Soft callused hands running through his curls, guiding him into a tight hug. “Don’t ever do that-”

“Classic Iron Man!” Beck yells. “Always ruining my work!”

Peter’s eyes finally fly open as he pushes off the man in panic. His gaze tries to find his friends, only stumbling upon a strange sight of sacks and other assortments of doids. His heart thumps loudly as he watches Rhodey wrangle, Beck, in the same getup he wore in London; brain finally connecting the pieces. 

“Peter,” Tony’s voice draws his gaze away, inching forward to pull him into another embrace. 

“I thought,” His whole body shakes as he sniffles trying to wipe the tears off his face. “They were right-”

His mentor only holds onto him tighter, his own heart beating rapidly. “None of that was real, they’re safe back at home.”

“I-I almost,” He chokes out staring at the gun. “O-Oh God.”

“I know, I know,” Tony hushes, muttering something to Rhodey as Beck is lead out of the room. “He won’t hurt you anymore, his illusions can’t hurt anyone anymore.”

“How can you be so sure?” He asks fear still lingering. “He’s faked his death before, he can trick anyone.”

“Trust me, kiddo, I will personally make sure that asshole never sees the light of day.”

And finally, Peter believed what was truly in front of him. 


	3. My Way or the Highway

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Told you I’d have my payback!” Gargan sneers, enjoying the sight of Peter withering in pain. His goons behind him load more weapons on a truck, black hoods hiding their faces as they finish the task. “Where’s your protector now?” 
> 
> Another flash of lightning illuminates his failure, pained eyes watching as the first of the trucks drive away from the warehouse. Mud kicks up from tires as they sped off, grime covering his bloody form.
> 
> “Huh?” Gargan asks again urging his men to finish up. “Where’s good old Iron Man to save your sorry ass?”
> 
> _At home, avoiding him._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of blood, violence, and weapons 
> 
> Prompts No. 3: Manhandled | Forced to their Knees

A distant boom of thunder hides the commotions from within, lingering roars suppressing the ongoing yelps and pained cries. 

A crack of lightning illuminates the metal tail of Scorpion, greenish goo dripping from the tip. The pavement below degrades from the acid, weapon whipping through the air like a whip. It cracks with lightning, air whooshing passed Peter’s mask. The back end catches him, heavy metal forcing his unsteady form backward. 

He hits the broken pavement as the rain starts, acid-like poison eating away at his suit and skin. Gargan taunting him with a few more whips. The point of the tail never connects with his skin, only the jagged bits of metal tearing through his suit some more. The man’s laughter echoes over the storm, spraying the acid substance over his fresh wounds.

Peter grits his teeth as the acid burns his skin, scorching heat spreading through his body like wildfire. A small whimper escapes him, jagged mental manhandling his injured form as he struggles to stand upright. 

“Told you I’d have my payback!” Gargan sneers, enjoying the sight of Peter withering in pain. His goons behind him load more weapons on a truck, black hoods hiding their faces as they finish the task. “Where’s your protector now?” 

Another flash of lightning illuminates his failure, pained eyes watching as the first of the trucks drive away from the warehouse. Mud kicks up from tires as they sped off, grime covering his bloody form.

“Huh?” Gargan asks again urging his men to finish up. “Where’s good old Iron Man to save your sorry ass?”

_ At home, avoiding him. _

Peter hasn’t talked to Tony in a week. Not since —  _ the incident.  _ One big fight; words and frustrations erupting from both of them. It ended in a blowout, glass shattering as he stormed his way out of the tower. He hasn’t stepped foot in there since only keeping small contact with Happy most of all as others around him tried to ease the tension. 

_ It didn’t help. _

The tension remained as the week unfolded, an odd grudge lingering in his bones. The anger was still there, the frustration still eating away at him. Peter hated holding grudges, hated holding things against the people he loved. But it just happened that way, no matter how much he didn’t want it to — _it just did_. And God, it sucked as his mind tried to will the pain away, to try and move on. He hated thinking about the damn fight, to begin with, all he wanted was things to return to normal. 

He wants it to end, but the hurt still always lingered. It was the deep kind that plagued his thoughts, plagued his very existence. Just enough for him to turn off Karen’s protocols, to lock Tony out of his life even more. He knew it would drive the man crazy, both too stubborn to address the situation just yet. 

“Are you gonna answer me, boy?” Gargan only chuckles, snapping Peter of his daze. 

Struggling, he finally fumbles to his feet, gritting through the searing pain. His eyes grow hooded, poison slowing creeping through his veins as he tries to remain upright. Grime and blood cover him, the rain doing nothing but adding to the mess. 

“I don’t need him,” Peter grits out surging for the man.

His sluggish form managed to get a few good hits in, spider-sense allowing him to dodge attacks. But that was only two minutes into the fistfight — once he hit minute three, his body was already giving into the poison. His form got sloppy, jabs one after another pummeling him right back into the muddy ground. 

His head smacks the pavement this time, ears ringing as blood fills his mouth. Scorpion only looms over him, tail curling upward as the acid drips onto his torso. Peter hisses in pain, a muddy boot keeping him in place as the last vehicle is loaded up. 

Gargan mutters something to his men, leaning closer to his face. “By the looks of it, you're worthless without him.” He laughs pressing more weight on his ribs until they bruise. “You're lucky I have a payment to fill, otherwise I just might-“

He stops once he commands his tail to strike, the pointed metal sinking deep into his side. Peter lets out a pain cry this time, tears falling into his cracked lenses as the poison pumps through him. Scorpion lingers for a few more moments, using his tail to stab into his side a few more times.

He finally retreats when stops putting up a fight; hood eyes and limp body barely showing any form of consciousness.

“Oops, my tail slipped,” The man laughs, disappearing into the night with the stolen weapons. 

The last truck splatters more grime on his injured figure, rain picking up speed as puddles form around him. Peter only stares at the sky, delirious from the amount of poison within him. He heaves out a shaky breath as Karen alerts him to his injuries. Her static voice soothing him to sleep as one word repeated through his head over and over again. 

_ Failure. _

_________

It was a crack of lightning that awoke him, it was adrenaline somehow leading him towards the tower. A drugged daze guided his actions, coherent thoughts out the window once he opened his eyes. The rush of energy mixed with panic, pure instinct affecting his decisions. Buildings and lights blurred by the forth street, muscle memory guiding his webs to keep him from falling hundredths of feet. 

It was only when his head connected with glass that he snapped back to reality. Through hooded eyes, he stared at the door in front of him; the alarm system blinking red as he studied it some more. His gaze drifted upward, pupils finally dilating once the looming image came into focus.

_ The tower. _

Emotions bubble up inside his chest, hours of hidden tears finally coming to the forefront. The pain fell to the background as the thoughts swam through his head, fingers just lingering-

The door bleeps green, jerking open as a disgruntled figure stands.  _ Tony, _ dark circles adorning his tried, yet panicked face. His eyes searching, worry creasing his brows as a steady hand reaches to keep Peter upright. He doesn’t brush off his mentor’s hand, his own brows furrowed as he tries to read the reeling thoughts turning in the man’s head.

Here he was, Peter Parker, the very boy who swore to never return to the tower again — standing on the very roof shivering, bleeding, covered in grime, and scared shitless. The poison only pumped through him more, green acid still staining his multiple stab wounds as it ate at his skin. He can tell as his body swayed that he must have had a drugged and glazed look to himself, pupils blown wide as his vision struggled to focus. 

Words seem to escape Tony’s mouth as his limbs became heavy, body instinctively latching on to the very man he wanted to spite. Peter was the one to lock his mentor out of Karen’s systems, he was the one who didn’t want the man trying to spy on him. And yet, he was here clinging to this same man for dear life as the sobs erupted from his chest. 

“I didn’t,” He manages to choke out, body trembling as his legs gave out. ”know where else to...”

His eyes roll back before he can utter another word.

________

Unlike before, there was a steady beeping that stirred him from unconsciousness. It was calm, no looming storm crackling and roaring with life. Everything was quiet and...soft?

His eyes flicker open taking in the stark white room of the medbay. Wires and bandages cover his bare torso; scars and blood just peeking through. Covering his bare frame was fluffy blankets, piled on each other wrapping him in a tight hug. A warmth spread around him, the rain's icy droplets a distant memory.

A chill only runs through him once he remembers what transpired; his utter failure in stopping Scorpion and his pathetic drugged panic taking him straight to the tower. 

“So…” A familiar voice startles his gaze upward, eyes landing on the same disheveled man from before. “How are you feeling?”

Tony keeps his distance, fingers picking at his nails as the nerves radiate off him. His mentor looks him over a few times, trying his best not to run over.

“Like I just been poisoned,” Peter huffs unsure how to approach the situation. 

Last time they were in a room together… They got into a screaming match over Tony’s life. A bitter fight over how he shouldn’t recklessly throw his life away because someone was in danger. Peter knew how to save himself and yet the man would jump into harm's way just to protect him. Suit or not, Tony Stark was his protector — _a death sentence waiting to happen._

“Listen Kiddo, I-“ Tony struggles to find the right words. “You scared me.”

“You do that to me all the time,” He snaps back, the frustration bubbling up. Tears pricked his eyes, fist clutching the blankets until his knuckles turn white. “How’s the taste of your own medicine?”

“Ok,” His mentor just takes it, only inching closer to his bed. “I deserve that.”

Peter just snaps, panic and emotions building up from the last week erupting. “You just- fucking…” He struggles to find the right words heaving as tears freely fall. “You throw your life away  _ for me _ . A Goddamn failure who can’t-“

His voice breaks, a twinge of pain lingering from his injuries.

“Can’t stop a fucking illegal weapons trade or break out of restrains leaving you to-“

Tony covers the rest of the distance, hushing him with an embrace. His mentor doesn’t utter a word as the damn erupts, gentle hands combing through his matted curls. They stay in that position until Peter’s sobs turn into hiccups, steady breaths returning.

“I’m so sorry, I’m sorry,” Tony repeats over and over again, kissing the crown of his head. “I shouldn't have blown up on you like that.”

“Y-You just throw yourself-“

His mentor Interrupts. “That’s the same worry I have for you, kiddo.”

Peter stops, grip only fighting around Tony’s shirt. He sighs at the comment, realizing just how similar their thought process was. Two sides of the same coin doing everything in their power to save one another — risking their lives so the other would live. It was an ongoing battle, both too stubborn to quit. 

And that was something they were both going to have to accept. 

“I’m sorry,” He finally croaks out. “I’m so sorry.”

“Me too, kiddo. Me too.”

Although it didn’t fix everything right then, it was a step in the right direction. 


	4. Running Out of Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He stares at the component, bold red letters demanding his attention. 
> 
> _15: 45_
> 
> _44..._
> 
> _43…_
> 
> It counts down, the clock's little hand teasing Peter with every tick. He heaves out another panicked sigh, mind reeling at his fate. 
> 
> His hands are stuck to a bomb.
> 
> An active bomb.
> 
> And he’s trapped in the broken remains of a collapsed building.
> 
>  _He’s going to die here._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of death, blood, and bombs
> 
> No. 4 Prompts: Buried Alive | Collapsed Building

There was an overwhelming sense of dread creeping up Peter’s chest, a lump growing in his throat. His mouth goes dry, panic in its snake-like form curling and slithering its way around his lungs. The blood rushed to his ears, chaotic sounds of his heart pounding and echoing screams making the hair on his body stand straight. 

A smell of sulfur lingers in, subtle crackles of flames enhancing the thick layer of black smoke. The structure around him shifts, an object trembling in his hands firming tucked into his chest. He heaves out another shaky breath, eyes squeezed tightly. Static from the comms only fills his ears, a looming blare of sirens breaking through the sound barrier. 

An eerie hum gathers his panicked thoughts, a constant ticking noise drowning out the other chaos. Peter finally opens his eyes, back firmly placed against a broken wall as the remnants of a clock sit in his lap. Wires of all colors escape from the device, twisted forms connecting to another mystery component. Web fluid surrounds the entire object, his hands almost cemented onto the damn thing.

He stares at the component, bold red letters demanding his attention. 

_ 15: 45 _

_ 44... _

_ 43… _

It counts down, the clock's little hand teasing Peter with every tick. He heaves out another panicked sigh, mind reeling at his fate. 

His hands are stuck to a bomb.

An active bomb.

And he’s trapped in the broken remains of a collapsed building.

_ He’s going to die here.  _

The structure around him shifts once more, beams and other debris fall inward on itself. The whole building shifts, pockets of flames trapped on the upper floors creeping in. A few bodies lay ahead of him, bloody messes from the same device that sits on his lap. In a matter of seconds the men were on the floor lifeless, devices one by one taking out their targets. 

This was supposed to be a rescue mission, saving the very hostages that lay before him. The Avengers, Earth’s Mightiest Heroes tasked with handling terrorists only to get their asses handed to them by fancy bombs. The team was all over the building when the first bomb exploded, comms filled with static as a chain reaction of fire and structural collapse occurred. 

Peter had no idea who was alive, _who_ managed to clear the building. Either way, he was about to join them once the timer ran out. All because he recklessly tried to web the bomb up before it was activated by some masked asshole. He didn’t expect the man to toss the bomb his way, a timer counting down as his webs exploded around it. It dried in place moments after, the rest of the bombs disintegrating each remaining hostage.

He failed the moment those bombs went off, his faith left in the hands of the very same device. His gaze finds the countdown once again, death looming over him. 

_ 13: 30 _

_ 29… _

_ 28…  _

_ The irony of it all. _

Deep down, he always knew he would die in a mask. Spider-Man seemed to always carry some form of death sentence as the years ticked by. He died within the suit on Titan and this time he was going to die alone - still disintegrated into ash. 

_ He didn’t even want to address those horrid memories quite yet.  _

All he had in these final minutes was Tony, his mentor, rather disgruntled and panicked on the other line of the comms. The man managed to hack his way into his AI Karen, who was scattered brain once the EMP went off. And Peter wanted to be grateful to not be alone but the worry of his friend, pseudo father figure listening to his death did not sit right with him.

“Hang on, Pete,” Tony tries to comfort as commotion comes from his end. Metal and some crackling rumble in the background, almost like the structure was being cut into. “My lasers are cutting through the debris like butter, I'll be down in no time.”

“Tony,” Tears already prick his eyes as he stares at numbers. It was the same conversation they've been having since the bomb activated, arguing back and forth about the best plan of action. “I’m sunken into the ground, it’s going to take you at least twenty minutes.”

“Yeah well,” His mentor grunts, muttering something to what sounded like Rhodey. “We don’t have twenty minutes, we’ll make it work.”

“It’s already a mass grave down here,” He takes a look at all the bodies, bile rising in his throat at the thought of his bloody corpse laying among them. “Might as well cut your losses. It’s not worth it.”

There’s a brief moment of silence, calming breathing coming from his mentor. Tony doesn’t speak for what seems like hours, voice horse with emotions.

“Peter Parker don’t you dare,” His voice is thick with emotions, panic creeping through. “You’re so fucking worth it, I can’t believe you just-“ He pauses trying to reel himself back in. “I’m getting you out there, I promise.”

Peter only stares at the numbers after that.

________

It was only after the second cave-in, that Peter’s panic solely came to the forefront. Tony was talking his ear off about how close he was, the very beams still holding the weight of the building crumbling and breaking. The numbers still decreased, each tick reminding him how death was right around the corner. 

Dust settles from the fallen debris, weight shifting towards a support beam. It trembles under the weight, each shift in the concrete breaking it even more. It isn’t a surprise when tears freely fall down his face, anxiety slithering around his chest and squeezing until panicked rasps came out. Dreaded memories from before surface, his time at Coney Island coming to the forefront. 

Toomes’ voice lingers as he recalls the blocks of concrete pinning down, the pure terror he felt making the hair on his body stand up. Tony’s worried voice fades to the background, more flashbacks occurring.

_ The weight against his back lingers, jagged metal poking into his skin and leaving a scar. Dust covers him, a thick layer making him gag causing his lungs to ache from the added stress. The fear of death nearly takes him there- _

“Peter?!”

_ The scene shifts, Peter is suddenly falling from a burning jet. The impact hits him a second later, flames and explosions just barely missing him as Toomes throws him around like a rag doll. He recalls the pain of claws, metal sharp enough to make his skin bleed as he’s repeated shoved to the ground. Sand puffs up from the impact, floating almost like a cloud of- _

“Jesus, Pete, talk to me!”

_ The remains of Titan come into view, horror images of his friends fading to dust. The wind carries them away, nothing left of their bodies but piles of ashes. They disappear in seconds, free of pain. _

_ He’s instead left to suffer. _

_ The pain creeps up from his legs, spreading like wildfire as his body fights off actual death. His body tries to piece itself back together, ashes of himself flying off into the wind. His body trembles as he latched onto his mentor, death about to- _

“Peter?!”

The voice finally snaps him back to reality, blurry eyes shifting back towards the countdown. A panicked sob escapes him, the fear of death finally winning.

_ 1: 09 _

_ 08… _

_ 07… _

“Kiddo,” Tony’s voice becomes strained and stressed. “You gotta talk to me.”

“I’m...I’m-“ Peter struggles to find the right words, panicked mind too scrambled.

“Breathe with me,” His mentors said, still hacking away at the building. “Come on kiddo, you can do it.”

“I’m  _ scared _ ,” He manages to rasp out, trembling body trying to keep still. “I don’t wanna-“

The building screeches with life once more, panicked eyes already expecting the beam to give in. Instead he finds Tony stumbling in, suit blasting over the raging fires and debris. His mentor doesn’t stop to speak until he lands, eyes noticing the last thirty seconds.

“Alright, alright,” He tries to soothe Peter’s panicked demeanor, laser cutting through the webs like butter. “We’re gonna get you out of here.”

The device fell into Tony’s grasp, his body still pressed against the wall expecting the damn thing to blow up. He makes eye contact with his mentor, fingers stiff as he watches the man gently place the bomb to the side. 

The countdown hits fifteen seconds.

Tony latches onto Peter before he can, armored suit shielding him from any more dangers as the thrust kid off. They zoomed through the place, arcing upward as he counted down the remaining seconds in his head. He squeezes his eyes shut, almost expecting the building to swallow them whole. 

They clear the building with two seconds to spare, barely a foot away when the final explosion entourage from the inside. A heatwave blasts them forward, strong enough to force them to the ground. Tony, still tightly holding onto him, maneuvers to his back, crash landing onto the grassy hillside. They hit the ground roughly, the building fully collapsing itself taking everything and everyone with it. 

Peter’s eyes remain close, as his mentor tries to find his bearings. He sits up, cradling his shaking form all while trying to look for any injuries. It’s only a few seconds later that Tony cups his head in his hands, urging him to open his eyes. When he does, a fresh wave of tears roll down his face only to be wiped away. 

“Hey, hey,” Tony soothes pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. “We’re okay, we’re all okay.”

“I was gonna-“

“Shhh no, no,” He shushes holding him tightly. “There is no way I’m losing you again,  _ ever _ .” 

His mentor pulls away from the embrace, looking him firming in the eye.

“Because guess what? Peter Parker your life is so fucking worth it. I would run into any shitshow to save you.”

Peter only stares, body still trembling. 

“And that is a promise I intend on keeping, forever and always.”


	5. Already Gone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter comes away with only more red; tacky and drying onto his skin. He finds the source of the blood, a small gash along his sternum. The skin starts to heal along his chest, bruises and scar forming as his healing factor kicks in. His panic lessens, mind honing back on the non-life-threatening gash. 
> 
> He almost cries with relief; wide eyes and pounding head staring up at the large metal ceiling before him. A flashing red light catches his attention, swirling colors illuminating the thick black smoke encasing the room. Sulfur fills the air, a sweltering fire raging beside him. He coughed, gagging on the lingering smells as it hit his nose. He turns his head trying to escape the smoke, eyes settling on another ghastly sight.
> 
> Bodies, charred bodies stuck to the ground. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of death, blood, bodily fluids, and guns
> 
> Combine Prompts:
> 
> ~ No. 5: Failed Escape  
> ~ No. 6: "Stop Please" | No More

Peter awoke with a gasp, lungs burning painfully as an ache shot through his chest. He heaved out a raspy breath, mind wandering to his time in Berlin and the horrid memories of the train hitting him at high speed. He remembers the lingering pain as he clawed his way upward, ribs and lungs aching with every breath. 

Vision blurry, he titled his head towards his chest almost expecting a gaping hole or shrapnel sticking out of it. His pained breaths hitch, hands clutching the remains of his tattered suit. A thick red substance sat upon his hand when he pulled back. Panicked, his gaze focuses, eyes clawing at the tattered remains to get a better look. The adrenaline kicks in as the pain lessens, anxiety creeping around is already strained lungs. 

Peter comes away with only more red; tacky and drying onto his skin. He finds the source of the blood, a small gash along his sternum. The skin starts to heal along his chest, bruises and scar forming as his healing factor kicks in. His panic lessens, mind honing back on the non-life-threatening gash. 

He almost cries with relief; wide eyes and pounding head staring up at the large metal ceiling before him. A flashing red light catches his attention, swirling colors illuminating the thick black smoke encasing the room. Sulfur fills the air, a sweltering fire raging beside him. He coughed, gagging on the lingering smells as it hit his nose. He turns his head trying to escape the smoke, eyes settling on another ghastly sight.

Bodies, charred bodies stuck to the ground. 

Bile rises in his throat threatening to escape as he scrambles upward. Peter just manages to get to his knees before the contents of his stomach empty, acid burning the back of his throat. He gags once more, overwhelming smells of burnt flesh and sulfur making his head pound. 

Other injuries along his body strain at the movement; burns, scrapes, and gashes sending a shockwave of pain down his body. Peter grits his teeth with a hiss of pain, hands firmly rested against the floor as his body trembles. The room spins around him as he grows lightheaded, mind still trying to put together all the pieces. 

_ What happened here. Why was he- _

Another pained groan startled him off his knees, heart almost beating out of his ribcage. The figure hobbled towards him, a taller silhouette hidden by most of the smoke. The man blindly walks forward, muttering to himself about something. 

“Jesus,” The familiar voice gags on the smoke, finally escaping the black cloud with red-rimmed eyes. Familiar armor appears on the man, red and gold nanotech suit torn shreds. He stops mid-thought, disheveled form finally noticing Peter’s. “Kid-”

_ Tony. _

It clicked, memories washing over him like a tidal wave. His brain pounded as the pieces fit together, the last hour's events finally becoming clearer. The team was sent in to save some hostages trapped on an oil rig; a simple mission that went south the moment they touched down. Hydra had created a ruse, a fake rig posing as some undercover lab hellbent on capturing and experimenting on the Avengers. 

The team was met with an Army, all scattered below or above deck trying to make it out alive. Peter and Tony were forced below once the cannons came out, heavily armed blasters noticing the suits clean out of the sky. They were dragged inside once they hit the water, taken to whatever holding cells they had. 

But Hydra underestimated the whole team, not taking into account how much damage a raging Hulk can do to the reactors. Peter and Tony just barely cleared the bottom floors when the first explosion went off, both of them sent flying as the wave of heat encased the Hydra goons below. 

The last image Peter has is smacking his head against the concrete, the air leaving his lungs until his world went black. 

Tony’s disheveled form crashes into his with a tight embrace, sirens finally echoing through the chambers as water begins filling the rig. His mentor only hugged him tighter, broken nanotech sent to repair the holes in Peter’s suit. 

“What are you-” He tries to push the man away, watching most of his armor fade. The pain lessens his strength, fingers trying to shove the tech back over. “Tony-”

“I’m protecting you.”

“Tony, _no more_ ,” He pleads watching chest armor start to dwindle. “You still need protection.”

“And I’m trying to make sure you actually live to see your high school graduation.”

Peter stills at the comment, bile lingering in his mouth. 

_ Right… He was dead for five years.  _

_ The pained memories were still there for both of them.  _

“And your daughter is expecting her father home,  _ alive.” _

The nanotech stops, Tony’s suit is nothing but a small chest plate, gauntlets, and boots. His brows furrowed, hands gently accessing the scapes along Peter’s face. 

“And Miss Morgan is expecting her brother home,  _ alive.” _

“That doesn’t mean-“ Peter is interrupted by a boarding voice, the pounding in his head growing worse.

_ “Self destruct activated. T-minus five minutes.” _

Tony’s face paled, bloodshot eyes searching through the chaos around them. Flames and smoke engulfed the stairs behind them, the rig crumbling and crashing down. The sirens only grow louder, his mentor forcing a part of his chest plate to his head. 

A pair of glasses and earpiece form. “FRI, I’m going to need a way out of here stat.”

The AI’s voice mutters away as Peter struggles to stand, wobbly limbs unable to support him. A gash on his leg throbs as blood spills out. The crimson hue stains his skin, a small piece of shrapnel sticking out. He hisses in pain, Tony already trying to take most of his weight.

“Escape pods exactly ten feet away,” FRIDAY’s voice echoes.

“Ok, ok-“

_ “T-Minus, four minutes until self-destruction.” _

“Come on, Kiddo,” Tony urges as they walk together. Peter keeps his leg up, full weight against his mentor. “There you go, we’re almost there.”

His pseudo father continues encouraging him as they round the corner, the remains of the escape pods within sight. Half of the pods were already gone, the others mostly damaged or destroyed. The hope almost leaves Peter until his gaze lands on one of the last pod of the bunch. The lights from inside illuminate the launch pad, the final chance to get out alive inches away. 

Struggling through the pain, he listens to the lifeless voice countdown the minutes. Two minutes, one hundred and twenty seconds left for them to escape. The blood loss from his leg only made his head swim, room swaying as his weight shifted to the doors of the pod. He heaved out a shaky breath, color leaving from his face.

Tony taps away on the launch pad, the tablet glitching as he struggles to get the doors open. Sweat drips off his brows as he took in Peter’s state, panic creeping in on his features. 

“Almost there-“ 

Tony stops when the doors jerk open, Peter’s support disappearing. He crashes into a pod, landing on his butt with a pained hissed. His mentor awkwardly laughs, foot barely an inch inside when a blast knocked him backward. 

The whole rig shook, Russian voices echoing as the pod's doors slammed shut. Tony’s body hits the ground on the other side of the doors, eyes painfully watching a wall form between them. 

“No survivors!” The men yell, Hydra logo covering their tactical gear. 

“Tony!” Peter fumbles to his knees as the shots rang out, banging against the door as his mentor returns fire. “Open the doors!”

Tony only stops firing for a brief moment, repulsors trained on the men as more reinforcements pounded down the hall. His hand lingers over the launch button, tears pricking his eyes.

“I love you, Kiddo,” His father says slamming down on the button. The pod began to move the final minute echoing through the rig.

Metal gears shift as Peter screams in horror. “Open the door!” He pinches the glass barley causing a dent. “Open the door!” Sobs erupt as the pod moves farther away. “ Open the fucking door _ … please.” _

“I love you.”

The pod detaches, the force of the jets pushing him outward. Peter watches through tears as Tony disappears, body running forward and making one last stand against his attackers. 

“Tony!” He screams into the void of the dark ocean. The pod floats upward, his straggled sobs echoing from inside. _“Dad!”_

He surfaces, a mushroom cloud erupting from the rig. A ring of fire fills the air, water rippling from the explosion. The force pushes him backward, metal skipping across the water. 

Peter presses against the glass searching the water; metal and debris floating about. More fire rains from the sky, a chaotic scene of flames and destruction showing no signs of life. His body sags against the surface, blood-stained as the sobbing continues.

_ Nothing, there was nothing. _

“No, no…”

_ Tony was gone… _

_ Body somewhere in the dark depths of the ocean, somewhere among the sinking wreckage. _

_ And it was all his fault. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I wasn't kidding about the angst 😬I'll see you the 7th...with maybe more answers?


	6. Can't Smile Without You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They’ll find him,” She reaffirms, gentle presence still holding out hope.
> 
> Peter’s eyes squeeze shut, tears threatening to spill once more. The words sit on the tip of his tongue any form of hope slipping away as the seconds tick by. 
> 
> _They’ll find his body-_
> 
> He wants to utter those words, the bile creeping up his throat once more. Because Tony was dead, his body engulfed by the collapsing rig. His pseudo father was gone, one last form of love made through a sacrifice. 
> 
> _And it was all his fault._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of death, blood, and injuries 
> 
> Combined Prompts:
> 
> ~ No. 7: Support  
> ~ Alternative: Presumed Dead

Dread, it was the only emotion Peter could feel.

It lingers around his chest, it’s snake-like form curling around his lungs tightly. He stares off into a vast form of space, eyes glazed over not focusing on anything. Gentle fingers comb through his curls, manicured nails trying to ground him. 

He blinks, gaze just catching the red-rimmed eyes of his other mother, Pepper. She smiles at him, a pained expression showing her own dread. 

“I’m sorry,” He croaks out, voice hoarse from crying.

“They’ll find him,” She reaffirms, gentle presence still holding out hope.

Peter’s eyes squeeze shut, tears threatening to spill once more. The words sit on the tip of his tongue any form of hope slipping away as the seconds tick by. 

_ They’ll find his body- _

He wants to utter those words, the bile creeping up his throat once more. Because Tony was dead, his body engulfed by the collapsing rig. His pseudo father was gone, one last form of love made through a sacrifice. 

_ And it was all his fault. _

_______

It wasn’t like Tony hadn’t vanished before, his own form of nine lives keeping him alive when he shouldn't be. 

At least, that’s what Peter tried to tell himself. This had happened before, this happened a  _ lot;  _ years of near-death experiences piling up like a mound of paperwork. Disappearances only lasting for a few hours, days at most before the same man came strutting through the front doors.  In the end, it was all going to turn out  _ fine.  _

_ Totally and completely fine... _

_ It wasn’t.  _

It was only this half-believed lie that kept him calm when the team stumbled upon his escape pod; tears and rasping gasps urging the others to  _ fucking search for Tony.  _ It was how he was able to process the chaos in front of him; the raging flames encasing the vast rig. But it certainly did not ground him when they dragged him away, desperate and pained screams for his fallen mentor. 

He was forced to the slide lines the moment Cho saw his injured form; his body becoming a mess of stitches and bandages. Any promises of finding Tony alive fell on deaf ears, tears already escaping the moment he saw Pepper.

His mentor’s wife, the mother of their actual five-year-old child. And he ripped the very man away from them in a matter of seconds.

Peter only buried himself further into his troubling thoughts.

________

It was hour four into the search when he finally utters the dreaded words. 

“He’s dead isn’t he?”

His tried gaze finds Pepper in the same position as before, tears long gone as the dread lingers. The worry and guilt fester, silence filling the dark room. A lack of sleep weighs heavy on him, eyes sluggishly trying to stay open. She gathered herself before speaking, gentle hands adjusting a blanket to his chin. 

“No, honey,” She shakes her head refusing to believe such an idea. “Nothing is definite.”

“But,” Tears threatened to spill again. _“He could be.”_

The words settle as a burden, too many what if’s shared between them. The thought of a world without Tony lingers back; their time watching his comatose form healing from the effects of the stones. There was a chance of him dying there, another sacrifice for the ones he loved.

“He,” She pauses as her voice cracks, a small sniffle escaping her. “He could be but,” She smiles brushing the curls out of his eyes. “The man I know seems to have nine lives.”

“I can’t-“ Peter curls in on himself, the guilt eating at him. “I can’t live in a world without him.”

Silence falls between them, Peppers sniffles filling the void. “Me too sweetie, me too.”

________

Somehow through guilt and somber sobbing, Peter passed out around the fifth hour. A wave of exhaustion seemed to wash over him, the presence of Pepper lulling him to sleep. Although his mind managed to drift off, it wasn’t peaceful. Instead, it was nightmarish, plaguing images of Tony’s dead body floating in the dark depths of the ocean.

He can clearly make out the burn scarring across his mentor’s body, face frozen in pain as he sinks further into the icy depths. Tony’s open eyes stare into his soul, two words echoing within his mind.

_ Your fault. _

_ Your fault.  _

_ Your fault.  _

His body awakens with a jolt, a larger hand gently caressing through his curls. Tears blur his vision, hush voices trying to soothe him. 

“Kiddo-“

His trembling form freezes, a familiar voice echoing in his mind. A man’s hand carefully reaches to consult him, knuckles stained red and calloused. 

“What-“ His words fall flat, hands rubbing roughly at his eyes to clear his vision.

His gaze finally focuses, finally settling on the unbelievable sight.

_ Tony. _

Disheveled, covered in scrapes but more importantly,  _ alive.  _

Peter launches himself forward, blankets crashing to the ground as he tackles the man. The pain in his leg returns, all but ignored as his mentor wraps him in a warm embrace. Sobs erupt before he can stop them, a near loss so soon weighing heavily on his mind.

_ He almost lost Tony a second time this year. _

“Oh kiddo,” His mentor hushes, kissing the crown of his head. Peter clutches onto him for dear life almost expecting him to disappear. “I’m here, I’m here.”

“I-“ He gasps for a breath, ugly crying and certainly not caring how he looks. “ _You fucking-_ You should be-“

“Whoa, Whoa.” Tony breaks the embrace to gently hold Peter’s face between his hands. His thumbs brush the tears away, Pepper quietly slipping out of the room. “Breathe with me buddy, I’m right here.”

It takes a few minutes of coaching until the sobs turn into hiccups, the initial guilt still eating at him. Peter still keeps a firm hold on Tony, sniffling as the man tries to keep him grounded.

“You are-“ He pauses taking another deep breath. “Never doing  _ that _ again.”

His mentor chuckles. “I mean it wasn’t-“

“ _ Tony,”  _ He huffs, swallowing a lump in his throat. “ _ Never again. _ ”

“I’ll-“ Tony brushes a stray curl from his eye voice, losing any form of quips. He almost seems sad, like he wished he could give much more. “I’ll do my best, I promise.”

Peter swallows another lump in this throat wishing his mentor could give him more; to give him a better form of a promise. But he knew what it was like to be a hero, to face the unknowns of tomorrow. He's seen the nightmares of burying loved ones, the thought of dying within a mask at any given moment. It was a cycle that spirals out of control, never-ending until there is a coffin or by some luck a few more hours together.

For now, they had another chance at life. Tony was alive, a bit bruised and bloodied but alive nevertheless. It was enough for the night, enough to ease the creeping guilt.

Because when you’re a hero, tonight has to be enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I fixed it ;)


	7. Where Did Everybody Go?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A wave of self-loathing and nausea crept up his body as the hours ticked by. It clung to him like a wet jacket, weight resting in his chest and refusing to let up. 
> 
> Truth be told, Peter didn’t know how long he’s been up here — his legs dangling off the edge, staring at the hundred-foot drop, body inching ever so— Whatever sanity was left in him halted his movements, knuckles turning white from his trembling grip. 
> 
> Nausea returns, his gaze still firmly set on the pavement below.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings; mentions of depression and anxiety
> 
> Prompts:
> 
> ~ No.8: Isolation

A wave of self-loathing and nausea crept up his body as the hours ticked by. It clung to him like a wet jacket, weight resting in his chest and refusing to let up. 

Truth be told, Peter didn’t know how long he’s been up here — his legs dangling off the edge, staring at the hundred-foot drop, body inching ever so— Whatever sanity was left in him halted his movements, knuckles turning white from his trembling grip. 

Nausea returns, his gaze still firmly set on the pavement below. 

Peter didn’t know how long he’s been up here, how long he’s been alone —  _ how long he’s tried to feel. _ The seconds, minutes, hours all blurred together; his mind too frazzled to process the sun setting over the horizon. It was a strange method to his inner madness, his only way of trying to stop the creeping void of his darkest thoughts. He gave in every so slightly, just enough to get the adrenaline pumping through him once more.

But seemingly as the days progressed the thoughts would return, the weight of the world, his world weighing heavy on his chest. 

_ Depression. _

_ Anxiety. _

_ The horrid memories.  _

It all festered like a wound, infection spreading through his whole body until the emotions escaped him at once. The self-loathing, the tempting thoughts; all infecting his fragile mind looking for some sanity. It wrapped him tightly in its grasp, urging him to give in to the demons lingering within him.

The demons within locked him away from the world, isolating him from the very people that gave some sense of living, some reason.

And that was the worst part, he never was truly alone.

He notices the worried glances May shoots his way when she thinks he isn’t looking; the extra kisses, hugs, and affection she gives him before school. He sees the way she studies him, the fake smile she puts on as she tries to coax him out of his hollow shell.

He sees it when MJ begins holding his hand more often, the long hugs she gives before classes no matter how late she’ll be. She’ll whisper sweet nothings into his ear, repeating over and over how lucky she is to have him in her life.

He notices the way Ned acts around him now, the extra hugs and random compliments given throughout the day. He’ll always have a Lego set to build, a movie to watch, some comic to share. His friend always had something to distract, to keep Peter within his sights. 

He especially sees it around Tony. How his mentor and pseudo father figure embraces him each time he comes over. The gentle presence that never strays too far out of reach. He notices the increased lab sessions, his countless days he’s blown off meetings just to be with Peter. 

And yet, in times where his mind goes off the deep end, he feels alone.

He hated the way it festered, the wound growing worse until his body led him to some roof; countless hours spent just trying to feel anything but dread. He drowns out the sounds, the buzz in his head completely focusing on the ground below. 

It’s days like these where the infected grows, the more he wants the noise to stop.

“Kid?” A gentle hand startles him from his own daze. The figure moves around his trembling frame, the familiar voice speaking. “Kiddo? Talk to me.”

The voice clicks in his head,  _ Tony. _

And the dam bursts open. 

The sound that escapes him is almost inhuman, weeks of emotions escaping from his mouth. The demons echo in his head, their own cries for help tumbling outward. 

“Okay, okay-“ Tony already knows what to do, how to pull him back from the ledge —  _ figuratively and literally. _ He embraces Peter’s sobbing form, embracing the mongers that plagued his mind. “I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

_ “Help.”  _ He cries, the only word managing to come out. 

It’s a cry for help, a desperate plea for someone to put the pieces back together.

“I’m right here,” Tony affirms, holding him a bit tighter. “I’m not going anywhere.”

And the voices within fade ever so slightly.


	8. They Look So Pretty When They Bleed

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter screams, an inhuman cry for help echoing in the distance. 
> 
> Tony rushes through the debris as sulfur fills the air, a sweltering fire raging beside him. The cries continue, a crimson trail of blood dragged across the pavement. The chaos around them ensues, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. 
> 
> _“Peter!”_ He calls out over the raging destruction. 
> 
> The blood trail grows in size, a scene of struggle unfolding in front of him. Handprints of blood litter around the tail, Peter’s cries becoming much more muffled than before. Tony picks up his speed, pure fear and panic pumping through him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of injuries and blood
> 
> Combined Prompts:
> 
> ~ No. 9: "Take me instead!"  
>  ~ No. 10: Blood Loss | Blood Trail

Peter screams, an inhuman cry for help echoing in the distance. 

Tony rushes through the debris as sulfur fills the air, a sweltering fire raging beside him. The cries continue, a crimson trail of blood dragged across the pavement. The chaos around them ensues, his heart nearly beating out of his chest. 

_ “Peter!”  _ He calls out over the raging destruction. 

The blood trail grows in size, a scene of struggle unfolding in front of him. Handprints of blood litter around the tail, Peter’s cries becoming much more muffled than before. Tony picks up his speed, pure fear and panic pumping through him. 

“Pete-” His words fall short; eyes and repulsors acting at the same time. 

An alien beast hovers over his kid’s figure, large claws digging into Peter’s torso as they struggle for an upper hand. 

Anger pumps through him. “Hey, asshole!” The beast turns, claws still an inch deep in Peter. “Take me on instead!”

Tony fires his repulsor the moment the alien tries to lunge for him, the beast lets out a pained wail soon after. He fires again, repeating the movement until the alien’s chest has a gaping hole. He heaves out a panicked breath when the beast falls, Peter’s cries still echoing.

“Kiddo!” He rushes over, cursing tumbling from his mouth taking in the ghastly sight of the kid. 

The alien’s claws had torn up his torso, deep gashes pooling with blood as Peter withers in pain. His suit is torn to shreds, blood pooling from many wounds that seemed to be festering. It was only seconds later when a green acid drew his attention. FRIDAY’s voice whirled in his ears, his HUD displaying all types of injuries covering his kid. MedEvac is already called, the lingering cries of his boy engraved into his mind.

“Kiddo-” 

Peter only cries in pain, withering at the pain from poison. The kid is  _ sobbing,  _ screaming and Tony can’t do anything but hold his hand. The boy only crushes the gauntlet from his strength, desperate tears streaming down his face as the blood loss and poison. 

“Kiddo,” He tries to keep his voice calm, begging for the pain to go away. “I know it hurts, _I know._ ”

Peter only sobs in response, tears mingling in with the blood staining his face. Sweat creases across his brow, body thrashing from a new wave of pain. Tony only holds him against his chest, arms trying to and place pressure on his wounds. 

_ “Tony,”  _ Peter’s voice comes out so desperate, tear-filled eyes begging for relief. “ _Please make it-_ ” He thrashes again, muffled sobs escaping. “Please make it stop.”

“Just-” He tries to keep his voice low, trying to keep it from cracking. Peter only screams once more, the sound tearing from his throat, a raw hoarse voice mixing in with the chaos around them. “Hold on ok?”

He begs his kid as he squeezes his eyes shut and presses a kiss to the crown of Peter’s head. 

“It's ok baby,” He whispers. “I’m here, I’m here.”


	9. Broken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sometimes, Peter forgets how to breathe. 
> 
> He forgets a lot of things, his mind a cluster of dark thoughts and worry. Currently, breathing tends to be the most problematic of the bunch. A simple task here’s been able to do since birth; an action anyone’s body can do unconsciously. 
> 
> And yet, he lays among his messy sheets, trying to repeat the two simple steps; _inhale and exhale._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of mental health struggles and death
> 
> Combined Prompts:
> 
> ~ No. 11: Struggling | Crying  
> ~ No. 12: Broken Down

Sometimes, Peter forgets how to breathe. 

He forgets a lot of things, his mind a cluster of dark thoughts and worry. Currently, breathing tends to be the most problematic of the bunch. A simple task he’s been able to do since birth; an action anyone’s body can do unconsciously. 

And yet, he lays among his messy sheets, trying to repeat the two simple steps;  _ inhale and exhale.  _

Tonight, Peter can’t follow these steps -- can’t seem to find the strength in him to let his body function. He has to will himself to breathe, physically stretch his lungs like it was a tangled rubber band. The elastic seems to knot if he’s not careful, a snake slithering its way around his lungs suffocating him from within. 

It is exhausting to untangle the knots around his lungs, exhausting to keep himself alive. 

On nights like these, he struggles to unravel the weight placed on his chest; almost wanting to stop breathing altogether. A mixture of panic and sadness flutter throughout, a strange combination of conflicting emotions. It overwhelms him as the tears roll down his face, another broken aspect of himself escaping into the world. 

Peter was always a broken person, he was never quite whole as many have thought. He was just good at hiding behind a mask crumbling into more pieces as the years progressed. It was a fight he hid away from prying eyes, bottled emotion saved until the night’s shadows crept in. 

It did not matter what set him off, whether it was horrid memories of his near-death experiences, images of death, or troubling thoughts -- the shadows revealed the truth within. 

_ Inhale. _

He forces the ecstatic to expand, knees tightly tucked up against his chest. Tears continued to fall, his hands in a tight fist against the sheets. 

_ Exhale. _

A muffled sob escapes him, small whimpers crying out for help. He wants to feel normal, he wants to be whole again. Peter hated being broken, he wanted some relief from the never-ending thoughts that plagued his mind. 

God, he wanted a hug. He would really, really like someone to hold him and tell him everything was going to be okay. 

_ He just wanted to be fixed.  _

The heaviness clings to him like a wet jacket, suffocating him within his own bed. Peter instead only curls on himself some more, teary eyes focusing on the grays of the wall. He becomes paralyzed in the cycle of breathing, the exhausting focus taking any hope away with each growing second. 

He becomes frozen in this state, the helpless feeling crawling up his spine unable to realize his door creaking open. Light pours into the darkness, a shadowy figure inching closer as he stares. Peter only stares, eyes only blinking when it hurts him. He was focused on breathing, not worried about how strained his eyes became. 

A gentle hand stirs him from his daze. “Kiddo?” Tony’s voice echos, callused hands brushing his matted curls away from his red rim eyes. “Talk to me, what’s going on in that head of yours?”

Peter's eyes shift from the wall to a worried father, a lump growing in his throat as the frustration grows. He watches his mentor breathe with ease, a pang of jealousy settling in his bones. These thoughts cause the tears to freely fall again, an angry whimper escaping. 

Alarmed Tony quickly moves to hold him. “Hey, hey-” Peter finds himself clinging onto the man for dear life, a desperate need for somebody to free him from the knots within. “Breathe for me, Pete. Just breathe, it's okay.”

Peter blinks rapidly, trying to will away the tears but they keep coming. Emotions rush to the forefront, frustration growing. 

He finally erupts.  _ “I’m tired.”  _ His voice cracks, lips wobbling. “I’m so fucking tired of feeling like this. I’m tired of these fucking emotions, I’m so fucking tired of the weight refusing to leave my chest. I’m tired of being this hollow shell of tired of sucking the life out of everyone-”

“Kid,” Tony cuts him off, hands cupping his face as he wipes the tears away. There’s a sad look to his eyes, a worry growing. “Kiddo, no. You are not a hollow shell nor do you suck the life out of everything.”

Peter scoffs, tears still falling. 

“I mean it,” His mentor presses. “You're struggling but that doesn’t make you less than a person. If I recall the same brown-eyed boy was dead set on making me believe my own struggles were not inferior.”

_ Oh, he had him there. _

Peter’s gaze falls to his knees, exact conversations of him trying to get Tony to embrace his own struggles, his own mental health journey. His mentor wanted to hide away like he was, wanting to not burden anyone with what was happening within his own mind.

“Look at me, Kiddo.” Tony tilts his head upward, brushing away the remaining tears. “If anything, you brought light back into life, you helped me and I’m going to help you.”

_ Inhale. _

Peter can only nod at the comments made, some warm spreading through his chest. The weight is still as heavy as he embraces Tony. He clutches onto the man, fingers curling around his t-shirt to ground himself. His mentor only follows his actions; returning the embrace and brushing gentle hands through his messy curls. 

_ Exhale. _

The knots untangle. 


	10. Breathe In Breathe Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The thick smoke hits him as his mask opens, eyes watering as he empties the contents in his stomach. Panic pumps through him, breaths growing heavier by each second. 
> 
> Peter was inside the building.
> 
> Inside when the damn thing exploded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of blood, death, and injuries 
> 
> Combined Prompts:
> 
> ~ No. 13: Oxygen Mask  
>  ~ No. 14: Fire

Peter awakens to a raging fire, thick black smoke choking him from his first conscious breath. His lungs ache as he gags, a mixture of pure panic and adrenaline kicking in. Embers swirling among the chaos around him, screaming and crackling deafening his own thoughts.

With one heavy rasp, his wearing tries to pull himself from the ground; weak and injured form barely getting him an inch off. Burns and gashes cover him from head to toe, blood and scarred flesh sticking him to the pavement like glue. 

Through hooded bloodshot eyes, Peter scans the remnants of an active SHIELD base. The building lays in ruins, the crumbling structure adding more fuel to the fiery inferno surrounding him. He only sees death around him, the looming presence inching closer with flames. Bodies soon become engulfed by the fire, other agents already fallen to the elements around them.

This was Hydra’s sick way of payback, a large and important complex bombed in a matter of seconds. The whole place, everyone inside was overcome with the sick inferno growing by the second. 

Peter’s vision blurred as he breathed in the toxic air. Desperately he tries to pull down the remnants of his mask, hoping that the air filtering system would kick into action. Instead, the torn pieces stuck against his face, blood gushing from his nose keeping them in place.

He gags on the smoke once more, blood droplets spraying out along the concrete. Black dots cloud his vision, a blurry image of the fire swirling into a ball of mush. Another strangled rasp escapes him, his eyes rolling to the back of his head.

He drifted back into the world of unconsciousness, the fire fading to nothing but a black void.

________

Tony threw up the moment he touched down at the SHIELD base. 

The building laid in ruins, raging fire engulfing anyone within the radius of the blast. The bile rose in his throat as he checked the charred bodies, lost souls spreading their final moments burning. The smell made his stomach churn, the very thought of his kid matching this sight enough to make him lose his lunch. 

The thick smoke hits him as his mask opens, eyes watering as he empties the contents in his stomach. Panic pumps through him, breaths growing heavier by each second. 

_ Peter was inside the building. _

_ Inside when the damn thing exploded. _

Another inferno peak as more debris falls, survivors clawing their way out as first responders flooded the scene. Firefighters barely made a dent in the fires, medical personnel put more bodies in bags than on stretchers. 

Tony retreats into his mask, FRIDAY scanning the grounds for Peter. A weak single appears within, his suit’s tracker still trying to hold on. His AI locks onto the location as he surges into the fires; his suit is equipped to withstand the heat.

Panic still wrapping itself around his lungs, he claws through the debris. Bile threatens to spill as he uncovers more bodies, desperate pleads to the universe escaping his lips.

_ Please be alive, please be alive. _

_ Please don’t take his son away, not again. _

Iron Man was supposed to be retired after Thanos, the snap nearly killing him, and yet here he was back into the fold like nothing happened. It fit him like a glove, months of his fatherly worry after taking the backseat coming to the forefront. He let Peter have his space, he let him make more choices as Spider-Man.

He let him disconnect the baby monitor protocol.

But never again — _never again_ will he fight to find his son’s location. 

It took Tony thirty-two minutes and twelve seconds to find Peter. His burned, blooded, and unmoving figure curling into the corner. Other agent’s bodies surrounded him, all meeting their maker long before he stumbled into the chaos. He surges through the remnants of the room, an oxygen mask equipped to his suit.

It was one of the many upgrades he added since his retirement, his mind unable to shut off the worrying thoughts. This gave him a hobby when he wasn’t spreading time with his family when he wasn’t up at night worrying about the state of the world. 

“Peter!” He drops to his knees as FRIDAY scans for injuries. He gently turns him over, the blood from his kid's nose caked against his face. “Kiddo-“

“Mhm-“ Peter whined. 

His eyes stayed closed, torn mask shreds stuck to his mouth like duct tape. Tony heaves as he tears the prices off, cursing as his cracked and smoked covered lips bleed. Peter only groans at the moment, too out of it to realize that help was here. 

“I’m here,” He tries to soothe his kid. “I’m here, dad’s here.”

His kid seems to perk up at the comment, trembling hand clutching his gauntlet like a lifeline. 

“T’ny?”

Tony squeezes his kid's hand as his other one places the oxygen mask. Gently, he guides the kid to his chest, FRIDAY listing all types of distress coming from his lungs. Peter wheezes out a breath, coughing as clean air finally hits his lungs. He nuzzles into the suit some more, head falling to the side. 

“I got you, kiddo,” He presses a kiss to the crown of his head, tears of relief threatening to fall. “I got you.


	11. Into the Unknown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sirens echo as people flee, three blocks of the city almost destroyed by magic. Tony groans, a metallic taste filling his mouth as blood drips down from his temple. Somehow he finds his footing, the bitter images of his past still lingering. 
> 
> _Hallucinations._  
>    
> _Nightmares of his experiences and a future he never wants to happen._
> 
> In retrospect, he should have gotten himself checked out after that, listened to FRIDAY’s voice instead of walking through the wreckage. Maybe he could have determined if the hallucinations were gone, maybe he could have stopped himself from-
> 
> _From stumbling on Peter’s unconscious body._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of blood and death
> 
> Combined Prompts
> 
> ~ No. 15: Science Gone Wrong | Magic Healing  
> ~ No. 16: Hallucinations

It was an agonizing long few minutes until Tony could pull himself off of the ground. Sulfur and smoke caked the air, blistering embers escaping into the area. His suit was a hodgepodge of connecting pieces, nanotech lost in the last hour’s fight. 

Wizards and witches, _evil bastards_ that somehow escaped the grasp of Strange rained down upon the city. Their hallucinations and unexplained powers enough to put the whole team through the wringer. He doesn’t remember when the fighting stopped, only that horrid images plaguing his mind enough to blast him through the pavement. 

Sirens echo as people flee, three blocks of the city almost destroyed by magic. Tony groans, a metallic taste filling his mouth as blood drips down from his temple. Somehow he finds his footing, the bitter images of his past still lingering. 

_Hallucinations._

_Nightmares of his experiences and a future he never wants to happen._

In retrospect, he should have gotten himself checked out after that, listened to FRIDAY’s voice instead of walking through the wreckage. Maybe he could have determined if the hallucinations were gone, maybe he could have stopped himself from-

_From stumbling on Peter’s unconscious body._

There was a newfound fear as his feet came to a halt, eyes blinking a hundred times trying to will the sight away. But no matter how many times he tried, his kid still laid their maskless, motionless, and _covered_ in blood. 

The sight should have knocked him to his knees, his worst nightmare beginning to show itself. But it doesn’t, it only wills him to increase his pace, bile rising in his throat. In seconds flat, he’s beside the kid, mind almost short-circuiting as more teammates descend upon the sight.

“Come on Kiddo,” He laughs nervously, panicked eyes briefly darting over to his teammates. Dry blood cakes the side of his face, a gash on his temple already healing. “Nap time’s over buddy, totally over…”

Peter doesn’t move, mouth almost stuck in a mid gasp. Tony gently tries to shake him, a panicked gaze glancing over to Natasha and Rhodey slowly closing the gap between them. They stalk forward, their own worried gazes matching his. 

It wasn’t like Peter to be so motionless, _so still._

“Kiddo,” His voice cracks as he shakes him again, roughly and desperate for a sign of life. 

Natasha is the first to crouch down beside him, brows furrowed as she holds her own bloody hand upon Peter’s mouth. She waits for a few seconds, eyes drifting down to the kid’s unmoving chest and still face. Her normal calm demeanor changes, panic settling in her eyes as she checks his pulse. 

Rhodey tried to act as the calming presence among them, stoic form trying to stop Tony from shaking the kid like a ragdoll. His friend whispers something to him, falling on deaf ears as Natasha pulls her own hands away. Her head hangs low, eyes glassy as she tries to pull herself together. 

Words and bile want to tumble out of his mouth at her expression; questions racing through his mind. He wanted to ask why Peter wasn’t moving, why Rhodey was trying to keep his trembling form upright, why Natasha couldn’t look him in the eye without pain. He wishes that his mind wouldn’t understand, wouldn’t know why his kid wasn’t moving. 

A pained whimper finally escapes him, body almost crashing to the ground before Rhodey caught him. Natasha is suddenly holding him, her own inner turmoil seconds away from escaping. 

They know, _they know_ what this means.

_Peter’s gone._

_Dead._

The dam breaks open. 

________

Tears of a grieving father fall onto Peter’s chest, the echoing cries of loss an eerie sound. The kid is horribly still against him, Tony pulling him close refusing to let him go. The image was a father holding his child, a soft reminder of love — until Peter’s head lolls to the side at an unnatural angle. Any semblance of life is completely gone from his form, only a hollow shell of what he used to be. 

_“I’m-”_ An ugly sob erupts, the man rocking his fallen child. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony repeats the phrase over and over again, words becoming much more muddled as the cries continued. Around him, chaos still ensues, first responders attending to the damage of the latest attack. No one dares to approach the scene, the horrid sight of fellow teammates and a father grieving a loss of their own. 

Expect one person — a presence, invisible, and horrified at the sight in front of him. 

Peter Parker watches Tony clutch his body, an invisible presence trying to discern the image in front of him. The world around him glows with a haze, his own movements followed by flickering shadows of himself. His gaze darts from his ghostly image to his _actual_ body, an eerie image of his dead form sending chills down his spine. 

“Tony?” He tries for the hundredth time. No one hears him.

Instead, they walk right through him, Rhodey and Natasha just as distraught trying to guide Tony away from prying eyes. A crowd was beginning to flicker through the street, first responders trying to evacuate the damaged areas. Civilians stop dead in their tracks, teary gazes staring at his body with their own horror. 

_Everyone thought he was dead…_

_Is he actually?_

Peter heaves out a breath still staring at his ghostly image, trying to piece together what the hell happened. Moments ago he was fighting some crazed witch, dodging attacks and webbing up the staff that controls most of her power. At some point he got cocky, guard falling just enough for the women to punch his chest and-

He woke up outside his body.

Even in his ghostly form his stomach churn, horrid thoughts of being trapped here lingering. It was almost like purgatory, a curse thrust upon him by an evil witch. He was a ghost now, a wandering image possibly left to an eternity of solitude.

_Just his fucking luck_.

He hated it the first moment he woke up, his own screams falling of deaf ears. No one saw him, no one knew he was still there; lingering around his body like a lost puppy. He just wanted to feel whole again, to properly hug Tony — anyone really to feel warmth. 

He was numb the moment he woke up.

“Tones-“ Rhodey’s voice cracked, silent tears falling down his face.

He gently tries to guide his friend from prying eyes, Natasha cursing in Russian at the onlookers documented the sight with their phones. Peter has never seen her this angry, collected demeanor out the door. He watches her fiery red hair sway in the wind, trembling hands grabbing onto the first cell phone and smashing it. More Russian curses escape her, threats laced in her pain toned. 

Peter tries to reach out, to hug his friend — his body fades right through. He loses it there, tears shimmering in the haze as they fall.

“Nat-“ He pleads, trying to hug once more. _“I’m right here!”_

She never sees him.

“Natasha!” Rhodey takes his attention away from Tony, arm supporting his friend carrying Peter's body. He matches her anger with the people recording, biting his tongue hard. “It’s not worth it, let’s head inside.”

She nearly puts up a fight, relenting under Rhodey’s stare. She wipes her eyes, still glassy and seconds away from spilling. Head high she stalks back over to her friends, narrow gaze turning back to the group of people.

Her words come out like venom. “If anyone dares to post anything on social media, Stark Industries and myself will make you rue the day you were ever born.”

The videos stop there. 

________

Peter finds himself a chair in the far corner of a Shawarma shop, it’s familiar title floors making everyone cry. On the cracked wall stood a picture of the team, everyone’s smiling faces taken after a rather successful mission. It was routine to celebrate with Shawarma, a tradition set in stone after the first attack on New York. 

And now, a place full of happy memories was replaced with ones of grief and sorrow. 

Other teammates were still around the city, some putting away the evil wizards but all sharing their own grief at the news. The comms were filled with questions, demanding answers, demanding who was responsible — Tony crushed his comm.

Peter’s body still laid in his arms, the man gently brushing his matted curls out of his eyes. Tony didn’t move from his corner, the chair next to him empty except for the unviable presence of Peter’s soul.

He gave up trying to speak to them, staring at his demise and questions he’ll never have answers for. 

“Kid-“ His mentor’s voice breaks. “I’m so sorry-“ Another sob escapes him. “I love you, I love you so much.”

Peter tears his eyes away, growing frustrations erupting as he tries to touch his mentor. His hand phases right through, his presence never felt. He screams for the hundredth time, hoping someone in the universe would hear him.

No one did.

Instead, he was left with the tragic sight of his friends, his family mourning. Beside them laid the broken staff he webbed up before, any magical essence long gone. No one dared to touch the thing, still too focused on the body of a fallen friend. 

Peter’s tears never stopped.

________

Hours, minutes, seconds everything seems to blur. 

Peter found himself a new spot right next to Tony, as close as he could get before phasing through his body. His mentor, still distraught, had stopped sobbing with only red-rimmed eyes remaining. Silence had filled the room, no one wanting to tackle the thought of what to do next.

They were going to want a funeral, to bury him and Peter couldn’t stop it. No matter how hard he tries he was stuck wondering if he was truly dead if this was the universe's sick way of giving him closure. 

He pondered the age-old question of life after death, head beginning to throb — Strange blipping into the room stops his train of thought, desperate eyes darting up to the man. The doctor heaved out a shaky breath, gesturing to his body with mild panic.

“Give me the kid.”

Tony grew protective. “You’ve done enough.” 

“Stark-“

“No!” His voice booms. “My son is dead because-“

“He’s not dead!” Strange interrupts.

Everyone stills, eyes darting from each other than to the man. Natasha quirks a brow, Tony still holding onto his body for dear life. 

Rhodey is the first to speak. “What do you mean?”

“No time,” Strange walks closer to Tony kneeling in front of him. “He won’t be alive for much longer if we-“

“He stays in my arms.”

“Fine,” The man gives in, scared hand pressing against Peter’s forehead. He feels a strange warmth grow from the touch; the numbness and the haze retreating just a little. “Now this may seem odd but just roll with it.“

No one could get another word in as Strange’s body fell limp. Nat and Rhodey seemed alarmed, Tony just curiously watching the man’s body fall to the ground. A confusion erupts, Peter completely ignoring them. His eyes find a new interest, Strange standing right in from of him.

“Dr. Strange,” He rasps out, timid hand reaching out and touching the man’s soft cloak. He nearly cries, fingers curling around something he can touch. “Oh my God-“

“Sorry for the wait,” Strange says watching him through pained eyes. “I should have known she would have tried to send someone to another dimension.”

“A-Another dimension?”

“Astral Protection I should really say,” His friend nods, still letting him hold onto his cloak. “Your soul was transported here while your body stayed in the other plane. It’s disorienting for anyone to transport here against their will.”

“No shit.” Peter rubs his hands along his face. “Please tell me you can put me back.”

Strange’s face softens, a gentle hand pressing to his chest. “Of course that's why I’m here.” Warmth spreads along his torso, a small light erupting. “You might feel dizzy when you wake up but it’s completely harmless.”

His friend gives him a gentle push, the hazing world fading to black. 

Peter finds himself laying against Tony’s chest, gasping. His heart nearly pounds out of his chest, trembling limbs trying to remember how to move. He nearly cries at the solid-state of his body, head swimming.

“Peter!” His mentor is already quick to maneuver his uncoordinated limbs pulling him into a tight hug. _“My boy, my boy.”_

Peter clings for dear life, his other friends already scooping him into a tight hug. An odd pile of bodies surrounds him; Natasha pressing kisses to head, Rhodey holding him for dear life, and Tony crying into his shoulder.

“Tony,” Is the only word he’s able to get out, too overwhelmed by the sudden sensations of senses. “Don’t let me go.”

It’s only a few moments later that Tony takes his face in his faces. He’s very serious, eyes still glassy and tears dancing across his eyelashes. 

“Never,” He lets Natasha press another kiss to his temple. “ _Never again_ are you allowed to die.”

Peter laughs, his tears falling. “Never again.”


	12. Don't Put the Blame on Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A broadcast flashes across the screen, Peter’s face, unmasked and masked displayed. News reporters across all channels relay the news, a mixture of their own shock and confusion laced in their words. The same story repeats. 
> 
> _Murderer._
> 
> _Psychopath._
> 
> _The words continued._
> 
> Spider-Man is branded as the villain, demands of his arrest heavily shouted across the world. The same people who hailed him as a hero turned on him the moment the news dropped. Beck, the very man responsible, was hailed the true hero; the roles reversed in a matter of minutes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of panic attacks and blood
> 
> Combined Prompts:
> 
> ~ No. 17: Wrongfully Accused  
>  ~ No. 18: Panic Attack

A broadcast flashes across the screen, Peter’s face, unmasked and masked displayed. News reporters across all channels relay the news, a mixture of their own shock and confusion laced in their words. The same story repeats. 

_ Murderer. _

_ Psychopath. _

_ The words continued.  _

Spider-Man is branded as the villain, demands of his arrest heavily shouted across the world. The same people who hailed him as a hero turned on him the moment the news dropped. Beck, the very man responsible, was hailed the true hero; the roles reversed in a matter of minutes.

The broadcast lingered in the background as Peter’s gaze flickered down to his phone. Hordes of texts flooded his phone, MJ and Ned’s texts overshadowed by the overwhelming amount of hateful words. A classmate leaked his number, unknown numbers wishing many horrible things upon him. 

_ I hope you rot in prison. _

_ You deserve to die. _

_ Do everyone a favor and go — _

He crushes his phone, the glass and metal bending beneath his grip. He squeezes the remains of his phone until his knuckles turn white, jagged pieces pricking his skin until he bleeds. Peter chucks the device across the room, the pure force denting the wall as he heaves.

A mixture of anger and panic weighs heavy on his chest, fingers clawing at his skin praying for his body to wake up from his nightmare. 

_ Beck had taken everything from him. _

_ His normalcy, his privacy, his freedom all gone in a matter of seconds. _

The welt under his eye throbs as the hundredth round of tears began. Bruises and minor injuries came from a few angry New Yorkers, bats in hand trying to achieve their own form of justice. They called him a freak, a monster, an abomination, and many more other hurtful words as they beat him to the ground. 

And he just took it, until Sam swooped in to save the day. The new Captain America, still fresh to the world; saving the “murderer.” 

The media had a field day after that.

The Avengers, just reformed and earning respect, was dragged through the mud. People disgusted that they could defend someone of the likes of  _ him — the murderer. _ It was a never-ending cycle as the day went on, Peter hiding away in his room of the tower waiting until the government swooped in to take him away to jail.

Overwhelmed, an ugly sobbed escaped him, lungs tight and knotted. The snake around his chest won the battle, painful rasps refusing to let him breathe. Peter’s body shakes, a numb reaction as his mind tried to process what the fuck happened in a matter of seconds.

Life was good; he and MJ were dating, he just settled in a new apartment close to Tony — his mentor fresh out of a coma was finally up and walking. And Peter couldn’t face him; not now, not after he gave the villain Stark tech to destroy London.

Maybe he was the villain, maybe he was the murderer.

The panic only consumes him more.

So many people wanted him gone. They only saw him as a monster, not some kid trying to do good by the city. He didn’t care about the credit, he never did but earning the city’s trust was something he didn’t take lightly. To them, he was some freak with evil intentions. They never saw what Mysterio did and his crazy intentions. 

Peter’s cries continued, body trembling as painful gasps escaped him. His bloody knuckles grips his sheets, crimson hue staining and ruining another thing he came in contact with.

Through his panic, he never saw his bedroom door open; a figure hobbling in with a painful his. It was only when his bed sank, that his eyes snapped open; a person who shouldn’t be here sitting right next to him.

_ Tony _ — literally just able to walk and most definitely should be resting sitting next to him with a worried look. His mentor doesn’t say a word at first, hands instinctively reaching out comfort and turn off the chaos of the broadcast.

“Tony-“ Peter’s voice cracks, hoarse from crying. “Y-You shouldn’t be here-“

“My son is hiding in his room having a panic attack, I think I should be here.”

“You should be  _ resting,  _ not-“

Tony cuts him off with a hug; bandaged and injured arm wrapping around him and holding tightly. Peter tries to fight it at first, body trying to pull away. But his mentor kept holding on, kissing the crown of his head until more tears began to fall. 

Peter sank further into the embrace, body trembling from the day's events. He mourns the loss of his freedom, mourns the good graces he had with the people. Now he was branded as some villain, a freak with evil intentions.

And he had no idea how to process that.

“There you go,” Tony hushes, running his hands along his back. “Just breathe for me. All you have to do is just breathe-“

“B-But,” His voice still comes out shaky, gasping for air. “Everyone-“

“Nope,” His mentor cuts him off once more. Gentle hands run through his curls, the embrace still tight. “Leave that to us, we have you covered.”

“It’s my-“

“We have you covered,” Tony repeats, voice almost worried but still calm. “ _ No one  _ is taking you away, we’ve got you.”

Peter can’t mutter anymore words, only sinking further into the crook of Tony’s neck. He wants to air his frustrations, to somehow help, but right now he just wants to be held. He wants to be safe in Tony’s arms for as long as he can. 

“I’ve got you, baby,” His mentor hushes. “I’ve got you.”

And Peter believes him.


	13. Broken Hearts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Grief was a funny thing. Sometimes it was barely there, a lingering echo of pain but not enough to consume him whole. But on days like these, the grief was a tidal wave consuming his mind, body, and soul. 
> 
> Peter found himself curled against the sofa, strained eyes staring at the rain pounding against the windows. Tears freely fell as he muffled a sob; his morning figure hiding away from prying eyes. He didn’t need anyone to worry about his well being — to take pity on his broken demeanor. 
> 
> After all, today was the anniversary — the anniversary of his Uncle’s death. 
> 
> And it was utterly all his fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Character death and mentions of blood
> 
> Prompts:
> 
> ~ No. 19: Grief | Mourning A Love One

Grief was a funny thing. Sometimes it was barely there, a lingering echo of pain but not enough to consume him whole. But on days like these, the grief was a tidal wave consuming his mind, body, and soul. 

Peter found himself curled against the sofa, strained eyes staring at the rain pounding against the windows. Tears freely fell as he muffled a sob; his morning figure hiding away from prying eyes. He didn’t need anyone to worry about his well being — to take pity on his broken demeanor. 

After all, today was the anniversary — the anniversary of his Uncle’s death. 

_ And it was utterly all his fault. _

The guilt ate him alive, the day replaying in front of him. Instead of relying on his own memories, a pair of BARF glasses sit on his face. He lays there for hours as the morning ticks by, punishing himself for his failure. 

He replays the memories again. 

_ Two months, he had his powers for two months and he was selfishly using it for the wrong reasons. He wasn’t quite the Spider-Man the world knew him as — he was a kid with powers he never should have had. Peter wasn’t saving people then, he was swinging about and enjoying the freedom these powers gave him. It made him feel powerful, above the very people who tried to put him down. _

_ The power went to his head, breaking curfew to swing through the city. Ben and May were quick to catch on, worried parents trying to figure out why he was acting so differently. They were just trying to understand — _

_ “Peter Benjamin Parker!” Ben’s voice booms after him. This was his third-night breaking curfew, the third night of arguing. “Get back here!” _

_ “Why so you can yell at me?” Peter halts his pace, nose flared in frustration. “I’m 15 I’m allowed to go out and have a life!” _

_ They didn’t understand, they didn’t know about his powers.  _

_ “Not until 2:00 AM! Your curfew is 11:00!” _

_ He huffs, rolling his eyes. “And it’s utter bullshit!” _

The guilt rises, a weight heavy in his chest. Peter watches the heated fight breakout through glassy eyes. A screaming match erupts, words spilling from his mouth. 

_ “I hate you!” Peter yells. _

_ “And you're grounded!” Ben challenges back. _

_ “And you're not my fucking father!” _

_ “Peter!” May chimes in jumping back into the conversation. _

_ He doesn’t look back, only slamming his door and getting the hell away from their prying eyes. _

His final words of conversation replay through his mind, a fresh wave of tears escaping. Ben was a father to him, raising him like his own son; loving him full-heartedly. And Peter threw all of that in his face, bitter words echoing through their apartment. 

He felt guilty the moment he slammed his bedroom door and yet he still decided to leave.  _ He _ was the person to get Ben to follow after him,  _ he  _ was the reason why he — BARF shifts the scene, already replaying the horrid images before he could blink.

_ “Ben!” A sob escapes him, voice hoarse from screaming bloody murder for help. Blood covers his entire forearms, the red hue staining his skin and clothing as he tries to stop the bleeding. “Please — I didn’t mean, I didn’t mean —“ _

_ Ben chokes on his own blood, shaky hand cupping Peter’s cheek. His uncle tries to speak but the words never form, only the pain gurgles as more blood spills from his lips. _

_ “Please, please,” He begs, glassy eyes searching the empty street around him. “HELP SOMEBODY—“ _

The memory glitches, his room flickering back into view. A figure stands in front of him, gentle hands reading off the BARF glasses. It’s Tony, gazing at him with worried eyes. His mentor doesn’t say any words just yet, only pocketing the glasses and running a hand through Peter’s curls.

Tony knows what today is, he knows how his mind works. His mentor brought him over to the tower for a reason — he knows to look out for him, he knows how the grief consumes him. 

The waves crash. 

“Tony-“ His hands clutch his mentor’s shirt, a heavy sob erupting as his body shakes. “My fault,  _ my fault _ .”

Tony hushes him, expert hands already maneuvering him into a tight embrace. “Kiddo, none of this is your fault.”

Peter’s body shakes, sobs shaking through his body, the tidal wave of grief finally crashed; consuming him whole. His mentor still holds him tight, pressing kisses to the crown of his head. He knows the feeling of losing loved ones, he knows the dreaded emotions that eat him alive.

_ “ _ I failed him.”

“You didn’t.”

The cycle continues until his tears run dry. The grief clutching at his lungs as the storm outside rages. The waves crash, the grief pours — and Tony still holds him close. 

Some days the grief was a lingering echo, some days the grief was a raging tidal wave.


	14. Lose Control

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peter walked in a haze, a numbing trance somehow keeping his body upright. His mind swirled, lingering thoughts and questions throbbing in his head. 
> 
> Beneath his feet snow crunches, a chill running up his spine. His mind knows he’s somewhere cold, somewhere distant — a long way from home. But other than that, he can’t remember; can’t recall where he is or even how he ended up here. Peter only walks, a trance-like state guiding him somewhere.
> 
> He’s lost but he doesn’t remember why.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of syringes and stabbing
> 
> Combined Prompts:
> 
> ~ No. 20: Lost  
> ~ No. 21: Infection  
> ~ No. 22: Poisoned

Peter walked in a haze, a numbing trance somehow keeping his body upright. His mind swirled, lingering thoughts and questions throbbing in his head. 

Beneath his feet snow crunches, a chill running up his spine. His mind knows he’s somewhere cold, somewhere distant — _a long way from home_. But other than that, he can’t remember; can’t recall where he is or even how he ended up here. Peter only walks, a trance-like state guiding him somewhere.

He’s lost but he doesn’t remember why.

A twinge of pain aches at his side, an inhumane hiss escaping him. His hand instinctively grabs at his side, a strange syringe sticking out of him. His vision barely focuses on a black sticky substance pooling through his fingers. 

Peter pauses his movements a distance buzz echoing in the back of his head. His senses seemed to scream, seemed to be pushing him to—

**_Move_ ** _. _

A voice drowns the buzzing, a powerful tone urging him forward. It’s not familiar, it’s unlike anything he’s ever heard before.

But he listens. 

The syringe tumbles out of his fingers, the black substance becoming an afterthought. The trance overcomes him once more, the same thoughts echoing through his head.

_ Where was he? _

_ Why was he lost? _

The world around him returns to a haze.

________

Another twinge of pain awakens his senses, trance-like state tumbling to the icy ground. A fire rages through his body, pain echoed by his cries. The black substance covers his left side, searing against his skin. 

Poison, his senses scream — _an infection raging inside of him_. The substance travels upward to his torso, pained cries escaping him as the icy wind nips at his nose. His vision swims, glaze eyes just making out the cluster of never-ending trees ahead of him. 

Panic creeps up his chest, a snake-like presence wrapping itself around his lungs. His shaky breaths become visible in the cold air, a looming sense of dread overcoming him.  Peter desperately tries to piece together the missing pieces, trying to remember what the hell happened to him. 

All he recalls is the black substance and the —

_ The Hydra asshat that stabbed him with a syringe before blowing him sky-high. _

Peter was on a mission, a mission to stop Hydra from infecting people with the very type of poison he was struggling with. It was deadly, it wasn’t from  _ here _ .

Another searing pain knocked the wind out of him, the same eerie voice echoing within his head. 

**_Mine._ **

_ No— _

**_Mine!_ **

Peter’s limps start moving on his own, body twisting unnaturally upward. He struggles to regain control, panic heightening as the same voice’s laughter echoed within his head. 

**_We’re going to have a swell time._ **

Peter's muscles relax, the panic disappearing in seconds. The memories evade him once more, the same questions lingering.

_ Where was he? _

_ Why was he lost? _

**_Move._ **

He follows the voice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little short (sorry) but this sets up part two! I'll see you on the 27th!


	15. To Insanity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The deprivation started in a series of waves; Hydra agents trained to take away parts of his sanity with each coming second, hour, and day. They wanted a soldier, someone to take on the mantle of the Winter Soldier they lost years ago. But they didn’t jump the gun like some of their commanding officers do, they stuck to the shadows. They waited and watched their target, analyzing any weak points to benefit their plan. 
> 
> When the time was right, they struck; their target whisked away in the dead of night without any alarm. 
> 
> And their target was Peter Parker. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Mentions of drugs, torture, and blood
> 
> Combined Prompts: 
> 
> ~ No. 23: Sleep Deprivation   
>  ~ No. 24: Forced Mutism | Blindfolded | Sensory Deprivation   
>  ~ No. 25: Disorientation | Blurred Vision | Ringing Ears   
>  ~ No. 26: Blindness

The deprivation started in a series of waves; Hydra agents trained to take away parts of his sanity with each coming second, hour, and day. They wanted a soldier, someone to take on the mantle of the Winter Soldier they lost years ago. But they didn’t jump the gun like some many of their commanding officers do, they stuck to the shadows. They waited and watched their target, analyzing any weak points to benefit their plan. 

When the time was right, they struck; their target whisked away in the dead of night without any alarm. 

And their target was Peter Parker. 

________

Truth be told, Peter had always been on edge after the Beck incident  _ — _ after the world believed he was some psychopathic murder. His senses became paranoid, heighten anxiety lingering long after he and the team were able to clear his name. The world had his identity, his face no longer one of anonymity. This created new threats, new precautions  _ —  _ changes to his once normal-ish life. 

Tony had safeguards in place, the team following suit to make sure he somehow got to live out his final year of high school with a form of grace. His mentor had hundreds of scenarios planned out; protections in place to make his life easier. The man had plans upon plans; cases of aliens, terrorists, and even common paparazzi trying to dive deeper into Peter’s personal life. 

He was retired from Iron Man but certainly not from the role of an over-worried father. 

But none of them saw the plan Hydra had in store coming — none of them knew what the night of October 24th signified.

Peter Parker was going to disappear, fate left in the hands of a newer sect of Hydra trying to regain control. He was meant to be their new soldier, their new puppet in a vast quest to power. And no one was the wiser to their interest. 

Peter’s sight was the first thing to go, agents descending on him with a drug cocktail and blindfold. All it took was a few darts to his back to disorientate him, body tumbling to the ground as he tried to rustle for some way of contacting help. A military-grade blindfold was then placed over his eyes, mechanical gears locking into place and keeping him in the darkness. The drug cocktail weakened his spidey sense, mind swirling with panic as the same agents loaded him into a vehicle. 

It took them seven minutes to kidnap him, seven minutes to disappear without a trace. 

Through his disgruntled haze, electrical handcuffs and a collar were put on him; the familiar buzzing sound warning him not to act out. Through the darkness, his body shifted with the sharp turns the vehicle took; speeding through bumpy roads as the agents muttered to themselves in broken English and Russian. 

There Peter realized what their true intentions were — this wasn’t a ransom, this was a plan of sick intentions. 

And couldn’t do anything but let the drugs work out of his system.

________

Hydra never did let the drugs work out of this system. 

Scientists hand him on an IV drip around the clock, disorienting haze barely letting his eyes adjust when the blindfold was taken off. His vision never truly got a good focus on anything, just the blurry images of a lab set up to make a chill run down his spine. 

He blinked only for a few seconds, waking up now fully restrained to a cold metal table. His clothes were gone, replaced with some suit poking and prodding him as scientists loomed over him taking notes. 

The first few hours let him in a daze of horror, stuck to watch strangers analyze him like he was some experiment. Doctors shined lights in his eyes, the same electrical collar from before giving him painful shocks anytime he tried to fight back, tried to break free. 

They increased the dosage of the drug cocktail after his many attempts of fighting, wicked grins watching him struggle to keep his eyes focused. One woman cooed over him, cold fingers wiping the drool from his lips. 

“My, My,” Her French accent was thick, same fingers playing with curls. Peter shivers away at her actions, she wasn’t anyone he trusted — anyone he let play with his hair. She was some wicked woman petting his hair like he was some piece of property. “I never thought the day would come.”

“N-No…” Peter slurred out, earning a painful shock as tried to turn away. 

The woman's breath was hot against his ear, fingers still petting his hair. “I suggest you stop fighting now,” She whispers, chuckling to herself. “It’ll make the process much easier once you give in.”

“Mhm-” He tries to fight against her grip, nails suddenly digging into his scalp. 

“Fine,” She huffs, a playful smile falling. “Blindfold him and increase the dosage, I had enough of the brat. 

The darkness returned as his mind swam, the IV pumping more drugs through him. Peter felt his muscles relax, any fight he had slowly faded into nothingness. He struggles to keep himself awake, trying to use the panic to fuel his fight. 

But the drugs win, his eyes rolling back until he fades into nothing. 

________

Time seems to melt under the blindfold, the cocktail of drugs and darkness giving him no sense of time. Peter still tries to fight against his captors; hours spent yelling, struggling against the poking and prodding. The scientists and doctors only shock him in relation, electrical spasms hitting his muscles at least five times an hour.

“Raise the power to an eight,” A Russian doctor huffs cursing under his breath.

His hand tightly grips Peter’s mouth trying to force it open, trying to force a muzzle over him. He began fighting with what power he had, biting at hands that got too close to his face. 

_“Fuck-“_ Peter curses as the spasms ripple through, electrical shocks stemming from the collar. _“...you.”_

Another hand helps force his mouth open, clamps keeping his jaw from slamming down. The muzzle clicks into place as soon as they regain control, only letting his jaw close when the damn device was firmly keeping his mouth close.

Muffled panic escapes him, heavy breathing coming from his nose as he desperately tries to fight against the retrains. Dozens of people laughed around him, his senses only making out the vast space he was thrown into. Peter struggles against the retrains once more, a familiar french accent echoing within. He stills briefly, fear pumping through his veins. 

“Took you long enough to muzzle the brat,” She huffs, the same boney fingers brushing through his air. 

A system to his right buzzes with life, some tapping away at the tablet. The metal of the collar warms under his skin, metal clamps suddenly pressed against his head. Peter stills once more, a new wave of panic washing over him. The pieces within click together, his brain finally realizing what their true intentions were.

_ They wanted a new soldier — and he was their pick. _

Peter recalled the horror stories that came from Bucky, the lingering effects of having his mind scrambled. The trigger words that took years to displace — control place within the hands of his captors.

The same woman leans closer to his ear, breaths hot against his skin. “You should have given up when you could.” She laughs, hands running through his curls. “Now we have to take more extreme measures.”

The system beside him roars with more life, the static from the clamps crackling in his ears. Peter clutches his restraints, teeth biting down on the thick leather of the muzzle. 

“Commence the next round of conditioning.” 

The sparks erupt.

His screams echo through the lab.

________

Peter stared through a haze, lack of sleep stripping him of any fight. The drugs, the electrical torture, the sleep deprivation all messing with his recollection of the last few days. It was a cycle of pain, brief moments of heavy breathing followed by rounds of electric shocks to his head or steady jolts to keep him awake. 

The scientists and doctors around the clock kept him awake — each person playing their own sick and twisted games on him. It didn’t take long for them to realize just how heighten senses were, how they could use this as a form of torture. 

Some hours he was completely deafened, the world around him left a mystery until they began some other form of torture. Other times they would blare a loud siren making his head pound. Even if his eardrums bled or he passed out, the shocks would jolt him awake.

They liked the surprise, pain, and panic they caused; the never-ending cycle of torture.

At first, Peter could only focus on the pain; his thoughts and memories of days prior sloping away from his grasp. He knew his name, he knew everything about himself, and yet he couldn't recall what he was doing the night they took him — the days that led to that fateful day.

The brainwashing was slowly working, parts of himself coming undone with each session. 

No matter how much he screamed, even at one point begging for the torture to end they laughed at him. Hydra had a goal in mind for him and they weren’t going to compromise. 

They were going to turn him into the image he feared the most.

_ A mindless puppet — a killer with no free will. _

The hours of torture melded, the fight within him dwindling. The same French scientist stayed at his side, her looming presence trying to sway him over to her control.

“Now little spider,” She whispers, fingers finding their way to his curls. “How loud will you scream today?”

Peter didn’t try to utter a word, lips bloody and raw from screaming under the muzzle. He chokes out a shaky breath, eyes squeezing shut as the clamps fasten around his head.

He heaves, giving in to the inevitable.

The shocks erupt.

He feels another part of himself slip away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of prompts this chapter! Hope this makes up for the short one a few days ago 😅


	16. Darkness

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Then the screams began, ugly fear-inducing wails only to be silenced moments later. The lights flicker within their space, darkness consuming them. The trio presses their backs together, an eerie silence lingering. 
> 
> The lights flash back on, a familiar figure standing over the carnage. Wires spark along the ceiling, the figure slowly hobbling towards them.
> 
> “Peter-“
> 
> _But it wasn’t Peter - it was something much more horrifying._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of blood and death
> 
> A/N: Part Two to my "Lose Control" (No. 20-22) fic - you can read this fic alone but part one does offer some context!
> 
> Prompt:
> 
> ~ No. 27: Power Outage

Although Tony could lie through his teeth  _ —  _ an uneasy talent he refined over the many years working with his father and trying to showcase a false image to the public  _ —  _ he certainly could not look his fellow teammates in the eye without his breath hitching or descending into the void of his building panic. 

Instead, he listened to the drowning voices of his teammates, eyes staring off into space. His body shook beneath his suit, panic creeping up from his stomach and settling in his lungs. The space around him was clouded in darkness, the Hydra base of operations plunged in a state of eerie chaos. Beside him, Natasha and Rhodey form a triangle, all three back to back trying to analyze the threat at hand. 

It was only a mere few seconds when they stumbled upon the bodies, a bloody sight to make their blood run cold. Hydra agents were thrown across the halls, blood horrifically spattering the walls. The lights were still on in their tiny area, flickering haze just allowing the scene to be displayed. 

Then the screams began, ugly fear-inducing wails only to be silenced moments later. The lights flicker within their space, darkness consuming them. The trio presses their backs together, an eerie silence lingering. 

The lights flash back on, a familiar figure standing over the carnage. Wires spark along the ceiling, the figure slowly hobbling towards them.

“Peter-“

_ But it wasn’t Peter - it was something much more horrifying. _

Tony stops once the light fully displays his kid’s figures; the black tar-like substance festering on his left side like an infection. The substance works in threads, slowly inching and growing across Peter. The kid only stands there, hands bloody and suit in shreds. He stalks towards them, black claw pulling wires as he goes. The lights flicker and struggle to stay on, an Inhuman laugh mixed with the kid making all their breaths hitch.  Peter’s face forms a twisted grin, his infected side showing much more of a pointed toothy grin. A tongue slowly hangs out, a full other life form coming from his body.

_ The infection — an alien substance they were tasked to find attached to his kid. _

**_“Shall we play a game?”_ **

The darkness returns — Peter lunges at his next victims.

________

Everything that follows happens in a consecutive blur.

Peter _er, well...alien controlling Peter_ charges at them with the fury of a beast and his own superhuman strength breaking their group apart. The substance spreads outward, alien tentacles pulling each member in another direction. Natasha goes flying towards the bodies, Rhodey is yanked upward to the ceiling, as Tony is thrown to the side smashing against the wall.

“Peter!” He desperately tries to reach out to the kid, head still spinning from the impact. FRIDAY begins trying to track his moments, markers trying to lock on Rhodey fighting the alien’s grasp. _“Kiddo, it’s us!”_

A burst of electrical energy fills the room, sparks igniting the loose wires. The blast comes from Rhodey, repulsor knocking him free from the alien’s claws as a small fire erupts. Peter let’s put a pained cry, the alien throwing its body backward from the flames. His friend comes crashing to the floor, deep claw marks embedded into his suit’s torso.

“Shit,” Rhodey heaves, repulsor aimed at the ceiling.

Tony follows suit, eyes just catching Natasha getting her bearings. Her gun is raised this time, Widow Bites charged at the ready for close contact. The alien controlling Peter angrily watches as the flames spread, body getting ready for another strike.

“Kid,” Rhodey heaves once more. “I swear to God don’t make me use this on you-“

The alien lunges, the same substance knocking Rhodey to the other side. Natasha fires, shots all aimed to wound not to kill. This only angers the beast as he chucks Rhodey once more, tentacles entrapping her before shoving Tony against the wall.

“Peter!” He tries once more, watching as Natasha gets placed in a chokehold. She struggles for air as she fires the gun towards his legs, the alien shielding any of the impact from its host. The flames spread towards the ground, erupting from the other exposed wires. “Don’t let the freak control you! You're stronger than this beast!”

Its gaze turns to him, anger erupting.  **_“We are Venom! There is no more Peter!”_ **

Venom drops the hold on Natasha, fully surging towards Tony. He panics as he slammed into the wall once more, suit denting under the extreme force. Nanotech falls to the wayside, his armor trying to repair as the beast tries to tear into him.

“FRIDAY-“ He blocks one attack with his hand, claw marks fully embedded in the armor. His mind tried to piece together a way not to hurt Peter, to somehow— _“Sonic blast now!_

He fires, piercing screech causing venom to scream in agony. Peter withers away in pain, Venom’s pain enough to free everyone from his grasp. His body stumbles into the flames, the black alien substance turning to ash. The kid stumbles with some awareness, Venom losing his control. 

Venom screams as a plan forms in the trio’s minds.

“Boys!” Natasha rasps urging Tony to keep going. Rhodey follows her lead, a second wave of sonic pluses withering Venom useless. “Push him into the fire, it’s destroying him!”

Peter’s voice screams out as Venom falls off of him, the flames turning the alien creature into ash. The kid stumbles back into the flames, small burns appearing. Tony goes to stop, heaving with panic of hurting his kid some more.

Peter's eyes meet his, eyes becoming but more aware and not glazed over. “T-Tony-“ He struggles for the words, Venom trying to shush him. “Keep...going.”

He increases the pitch —  The last of Venom falls off of Peter. 

A pile of goo desperately trying to escape the flames. It’s tiny form withers and wails from the pain, slowly trying to find another body. Natasha already sprints to the kid before he falls into the flames completely, dragging his fatigued frame far away.

With one final blow, he and Rhodey blast the remnants of Venom into the flames; repulsors vaporizing the freak hopefully for good. The small fire crackles with life, a cloud of black smoke filling the halls.

Tony instantly rushes over Peter when the deed is done, FRIDAY scanning for life-threatening injuries. Natasha is already checking him, eyebrows furrowed by the black infection still sitting underneath his skin.

FRIDAY chimes in “Foreign objects detected.” 

_ They were out of the woods yet. _

Peter groans nearly unconscious, almost a sickly pale color. All three become worried, Rhodey watching the flames with disgust.

Natasha finally speaks. “Alert Hill that we have an infected case coming through, SHIELD has a good lead on a cure.”

“Yeah let me just-“ Tony listened as FRIDAY rattle off the report to Hill as he grabs Peter. He latches onto him, keeping him close. “I got you, buddy, I got you.”

Peter was never leaving his sight again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little side note lmao: So this is my own take on Venom (like the "early stages") so obviously things won't be the same as the comics


	17. Accidents Happen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In retrospect, Tony should have known letting Peter scale the side of the lake house was a bad idea. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries (broken bone) 
> 
> Combined Prompts
> 
> ~ No. 28: Accidents  
>  ~ No. 29: Emergency Room

In retrospect, Tony should have known letting Peter scale the side of the lake house was a bad idea. 

It was raining, fall leaves swirling in the growing wind as the clouds got darker. Puddles formed in many areas, a mess of mud and rain that his kids seemed drawn to. 

Morgan being the wild five-year-old that she is, was already out the door once the puddles formed; dragging her big brother along with her. She cheered as Pepper gave her her bright yellow raincoat with a matching ducky bucket hat and boots, rushing to the biggest puddle to jump in. Peter was barely out the door, barely had his coat zipped before the first mud pie was thrown.

An all-out war broke out between his children.

Tony had managed to stay inside as most of the mud carnage was done, mind briefly occupied by Avenger related business. Although retired, he and Steve took on their own mentor roles; Steve trained and organized recruits and he helped offer resources. Whether that was in designing new equipment or having a mindless conversation with government officials he was there. In the end, it worked well for the team — worked well especially for him.

He could take a step back, enjoy the semi-retired life as Natasha took the official leader position of the team. She held the team together in the five years after the first battle against Thanos and she certainly knew how to lead the growing team of Avengers. 

Today was nothing out of the ordinary; a few phone calls to the new Avengers HQ and some for SI — nothing too memorable. What truly had his attention was laughter from his kids, bright smiles jumping and throwing mud at each other like it was snow. 

Morgan mostly ran the show, Peter letting her win the many battles involving mud. He gleefully took the many impacts of dirt only ever getting his sister when she let him. By now, they had moved on from the tossing of mud, switching to creating tall castles before stomping on them. 

“Daddy! Daddy!” Morgan caught him glancing out the window, possibly sneaking a few photos. “Come watch Peter smash castles like Uncle Bruce!”

Tony peaks his head out, staring at the rather dirty children trying to coax him outside. “I’ll come out on one condition.” He warns amused. “I stay mud-free.”

“And if we don’t follow those rules,” Peter wiggles his eyebrows making his sister giggle.

“I’ll grab the hose and hose you both down.”

They both ponder for a second, Morgan whispering something in Peter’s ear as they both nod. She then speaks, brow quirking up like her mother when she’s trying to negotiate.

“Ok but you have to make mud castles with me!” 

“Deal.”

Her toothless grin melts his heart, almost dying from the cuteness of her ducky themed outfit. Tony laughs already putting on boots and a coat. Morgan jumps in another puddle cheering, hands scrambling to grab for mud.

________

It was then, also twenty minutes later that he should have realized the red flags echoing inside his head. It was some parent sixth sense — a danger bell ringing whenever his kids were in trouble.  And yet, he watches Peter backflip off the roof for the hundredth time; chopping the red flags to over worrying. Morgan was having a great time, snorting with laughter as her big brother smashes the castles from his flips. 

Besides, Peter has jumped off higher — hell he’s even been to space, this shouldn’t be so bad.

_ He spoke too soon. _

Morgan clusters another mound together letting Tony use sticks to add details. Once the castle was “just right” she pops up wiping her hands along her jacket.

“Again, Petey!”

“Aye Aye, Princess Morgan,” He salutes walking back over to scale the house once more.

Muddy footprints line the side, a slick surface misting in with the rain. Peter barely makes it halfway before his shoe slips, body crashing butt first into a puddle.

“Son of-“ Peter stops growing red in the face. “Biscuit.”

Tony this time grows nervous. “You ok Kiddo?” The kid shrugs him off, wiping some of the mud off his boots. He grows weary of what Peter so hellbent on doing a nervous pit growing in his stomach. “Maybe let’s shift anyway from-“

“One more,” Peter pleads already, sticking to the wall. “I have to end this on a high note, not me falling on my butt.”

“Out with a bang!” Morgan cheers.

“She gets it!” Peter exclaims climbing up the wall before anyone could protest. Reaching the roof he peers over the edge with a grin that makes Tony’s hair go grey. He was up to something, something rather dangerous. “I say we mix things up.”

_ “Peter-“ _

The kid ignores him, backing up further on the uneven roof. Morgan watches with glee, fully unaware of Tony’s mild panic, child mind amazed at Peter’s powers. 

“Frontflip!”

Time slows the moment the words leave his kid’s mouth.

Peter decides to surge forward on the roof, running at full force. Lightning flashes, startling all three of them; his kid now stumbling to regain his footing. Tony’s heart nearly leaps out of his chest, mouth agape watching his muddy feet slip off the edge.

Peter stumbles off the edge, body curling inward to break the fall. His kid impacts the ground with a painful cry; head and shoulder taking most of the impact. Tony plows through the mud castle, Morgan hot on his tail with the same worry.

“Peter!”

“Petey!”

Tony hurries over to Peter’s still form, his kid’s pain breath visible in the chilly air. Thunder booms, lightning flashing across the sky. He heaves out a panicked breath, the normal day turning its head in an instant.

“Shit-“ The curse escapes him as he reaches to turn Peter over. 

A small gash sits on his forehead; mud and blood running down his face. The panic around his lungs clenches, hands shaking as his eyes fall to his kid’s collar and broken  _ bone _ breaking from the skin. Morgan gasps, a sacred cry escaping her tiny frame.

“Daddy-“ She hiccups eyes fixated on the injury. 

Tony’s body shifts to his daughter, eyes watching Peter’s shaking breaths rise from his chest. His kid’s eyes remain close, face still pained. 

“Morgan,” He tries to keep his voice calm for her sake. “I need you to run inside and get mommy to call Dr. Cho.”

Her lip trembles. “B-But I’m all muddy.”

“Mommy won’t mind, sweetheart.” Tony kisses her forehead, wiping a few tears. “Peter needs some help.”

She nods, scared eyes locking onto her brother one more time before screaming for Pepper. Her voice echoes from the inside, a mud trail following her.

Tony returns to Peter stirring, pained cries escaping his lips. 

“T-Tony-“ He shifts his right shoulder, his broken collar bone moving. He nearly screams, tears freely falling. “Tony p-please-“

“Cho is coming,” Tony heaves, panic breaking through. Peter squeezes his arm, strength bruising his arm. He ignores the pain as Pepper rushes out on the phone with Cho, panic written all over her face. “Just hang in the kiddo, she’s coming.”

He kisses his forehead, cradling his head until help finally comes.

________

Peter was swept into surgery soon after Cho touched down. 

Luckily for everyone’s sake, the way he fell and his added factor of accelerated healing made the injuries not so bad. Although his collarbone was busted, his healing already got rid of his concussion before Cho got to the lakehouse. 

Now, everyone less muddy and including May were left in a waiting game. Peter was still heavily on drugs, slowly coming out of his slumber. The girls took a small trip down to the Medbay cafeteria, letting Morgan get out of nervous energy and have a snack break. She had finally stopped crying and they were going to make sure it stayed that way. 

Tony opted out of the trip, eyes watching the steady breathing of his kid. He almost laughs at the irony, the number of times they ended up in some type of emergency room in the past three months was record-breaking. Peter tends to be a bit reckless and his grey hairs are mostly from him.

However, in the end, even through the panic and worry, he wouldn’t have it any other way. Sure, Peter would get a lecture about his stunt; roof jumping definitely earning a much-needed break. But that was a matter when his kid was not delirious on pain meds. 

For now, he’ll give the kid a break — grateful that even after five long years they had another chance at a life together as a family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late upload, had to get some editing done! 
> 
> Just a little heads up, since I have one chapter left (two days of prompts) I want to end on the 31st to close out Whumptober as a whole. So no upload on the 30th but the final fic is coming <3


	18. Today’s Special: Surprise Injury

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> His body jolts upward, a pained cry escaping his lips. He lurches forward, black dots filling his vision. Peter nearly passed out again, adrenaline keeping him awake. Panic clutches his lungs, ribs aching at his labored breathing.
> 
> _Tony._
> 
> His mentor had shown up to help.
> 
> _And he was nowhere to be seen._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: mentions of blood and injuries such as burns
> 
> Combined Prompts:  
>  ~ No. 30: Wound Reveal | Ignoring an Injury  
>  ~ No. 31: Whipped

Peter awakens with a jolt, pained breath coming out like hiss. He lays in the remains of a demolished building, rubble in a variety of different sizes. He winces, eyes squeezing together as his head pounds. He can taste blood, his whole body aching. 

Sulfur fills his nose, the lingering smell indicating some type of smoldering fire. He listens to the crackles, becoming somewhat aware of his surroundings. He peaks open his eyes, vision blurring as his head spins. Peter groans, still refusing to move.

His brows furrow, mind trying to remember what made him crash through a building. The initial impact lingers on his body, memories of his head smashing against the concrete resurfacing.

Some Hydra goon was attacking with a new weapon; electrical whips with spikes on the end. He recalls the pain of the whips, his body jolting as his nanotech struggles to rebuild. Peter had called for backup at some point, asking the team to help him—

His body jolts upward, a pained cry escaping his lips. He lurches forward, black dots filling his vision. Peter nearly passed out again, adrenaline keeping him awake. Panic clutches his lungs, ribs aching at his labored breathing.

_ Tony. _

His mentor had shown up to help.

_ And he was nowhere to be seen. _

Heaving once more, Peter fumbles to find his footing. The pain lurches him forward, hand instinctively reaching towards the source of the pain. His blurry vision finally focuses, eyes fixated on the red substance staining his hand.

It was blood, a lot of _his_ blood.

Panicking some more, his gaze darts downward finding a rather ghastly sight. Whip marks are scared in his side, burn marks stinging as he shifts his body. His skin bubbles and festers, dead skin peeling. Below the burns lays the worst wound — _the inch deep gash gushing with blood._

A small piece of shrapnel lays embedded in his side, twisting and burying deeper as he breathes. Peter shakes from the pain, growing woozy from taking in the blood sight around him. The rocks are covered in his blood, a small pool forming where he once laid.

“Shit,” Blood drips from mouth, metallic taste lingering. “ _ Fuck.” _

His thoughts become jumbled, a mixture of panic about his wound and the looming fact of his missing mentor. 

“Karen,” He prays his AI is still working. “Karen please tell me-“

“ _ Distressed signal received - team arrival t-minus five minutes.”  _

A sigh escapes him, tears pricking his eyes. He wasn’t going to bleed out here, they were going take him—

_ He still doesn’t know where Tony was. _

_“Fuck-shit-son of a bitch_ ,” Curses tumble out of his mouth as he struggles to find his footing once more. Blood runs down his side, throbbing pain keeping him on his knees. “K-Karen-“

She read his mind.  _ “Multiple injuries directed, applying nanotech first-aid.” _

“T-Thank you.”

The remaining nanotech of his Iron Spider suit shifts over to his injured side, his stringing burns becoming a dull ache. A few tears fall as the nanotech reaches his gash, wincing as the nanobots try to hold together his skin. It wasn’t stitched by any means, but it stops most blood flow.  The pain remains as he finds his footing, limping to the side as the throbbing continues. Peter ignores the pain, taking small breaths as he stumbles over the rubble. 

His mind is set on one task;  _ finding Tony _ . 

The horrid thoughts of his mentor alone and gravely injured haunts him; his fears of losing another person in his life overshadowing the pain. 

“Tony?!” He calls out, trekking over the rough terrain looking at the skies for any forms of a Quinjet. 

He heaves as another flash of pain washes over him, ears perking up at a low groan in distance. He picks up his pace, briskly walking in the direction of the noise.

_ “Tony?!” _

The noise seems to recognize his yelling, familiar voice echoing back. 

_ “Peter?!” _

Peter sprints forward, already feeling the nanotech tug at his wound reopening. He surges over rubble following his mentor’s voice. The adrenaline and possible shock kick in, keeping his weak form upright. 

He rounds the corner, heaving heavily, eyes flickering up to find the very man he was looking for. Tony looks worse for wear himself, suit broken and jagged. However, he is not as injured as Peter the only gash appearing above his eyebrow.

His mentor lets out a sigh of relief rushing over. “Jesus Kiddo-“ The man pulls him into a tight hug not realizing the pained puff of hair escaping him. He pulls away worried gaze, giving him the once over. “Are you okay? Does anything hurt?”

Peter still latches onto Tony’s arm, mostly to keep himself upright. The adrenaline seems to fade, the familiar feeling of blood running down his side returning. He blinks a few times, black dots appearing.

“No…” He slurs a bit, Tony’s eyes going wide with panic. “I’m totally fine…”

“Kiddo-“

The roaring of the Quinjet cuts him off, the looming aircraft earning his attention. Peter on the other hand stares at the sky, vision going blurry as his head spins. His knees tremble, the blood lost catching up to him. 

“T’ny-“ He slurs once more before his legs give out. 

Tony catches him, panic fully expressed on his features. His mentor mutters something, the cold air hitting his burned and wounded injuries. The man curses loudly, hands pressing against his gash.

“Peter,” He tries to keep his voice calm, failing as it cracks. “Come on kiddo keep your eyes on me.”

Peter barely had any fight in him, eyes fluttering shut. 

“Kiddo don’t you-“

His eyes roll back, the world fading into nothingness.

________

This time a steady beeping stirs Peter awake, he groans body still quite soar. His eyes pinch together at the ache, hands brushing against the soft mounds of blankets covering his torso. Fluffy pillows lay underneath him, a blanket of safety falling over him.

Gentle fingers run through his curls, his head instinctively leaning into the touch. He sighs, quite exhausted from his fight against the Hydra asshole.

“Hey, Kiddo,” Tony whispers, pressing a kiss to his forehead. “You had me worried there for a second.”

Peter peaks open an eye, still leaning into his mentor’s touch. “Mhm…” He pauses, exhaustion taking hold, he can feel the drugs still in his system; another added factor to his sluggishness. “...sorry.”

“It’s okay,” His mentor whispers. “What you need to do is rest.”

“Stay?” He yawns, bandage hand clutching onto his mentor.

Tony chuckles, brushing his messy curls out of his eyes. “I wouldn’t dream of leaving.”

Peter nods off as his mentor finishes his sentence, an overall feeling of comfort and not the looming presence of anxiety. He was safe in his mentor’s arms, far away from the threats that plagued him earlier. 

And with that, he falls into a peaceful slumber.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And with that, Whumptober 2020 has officially come to a close! That you all for the lovely support, I really appreciate it <3 
> 
> Happy Halloween, lovelies and stay safe!!

**Author's Note:**

> Starting out on a light note, get ready for more angst!
> 
> Come scream at me on [Tumblr](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/rejectedmarvel) if you like :)


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